


no hiding place

by alittlelesspain



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 09:56:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 149,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10089989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlelesspain/pseuds/alittlelesspain
Summary: So far in the past week, Maggie has been kidnapped, stunned, shot at, and now she has gone and put a considerable amount of professional and personal trust in the woman who had been doing the kidnapping, stunning, and shooting.She should be terrified. Instead, Maggie feels the most alive that she’s felt in years.Or, the one where Alex is supposedly a criminal, Supergirl is supposedly dead, Lex Luthor is actually President, and Detective Maggie Sawyer has to deal with it all. A canon-divergent Sanvers AU. Slowburn.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This all started out when someone posted a manip of Mafia!AU Alex on tumblr, and I wanted to write a fic about it. What started out as an AU turned instead into a canon-divergent exploration of what would have happened if a pivotal moment in Season 1 had gone in a slightly different way. This is going to be slowburn, with a lot of plot, so fair warning starting out:)

The day Maggie Sawyer meets Alex Danvers is also the day that she takes the biggest risk of her life, although the two events are only tangentially related.

See, a civilian might assume that Maggie’s job came with risks on the daily. But, even in the newly-minted Science Division of the NCPD, there is a comforting method to the madness of the job. Shifts are bound to run overtime, on account of the division being short-staffed. New processes have to be regularly developed to deal with the uncharted challenges of apprehending alien hostiles. These things are expected.

The situation that Maggie finds herself in currently, though, is something quite out of routine.

“You should leave.” the woman that Maggie’s gun is currently aimed at says.  She sounds bored, and is not even looking in Maggie’s direction. She has not, in fact, looked in Maggie’s direction since Maggie walked into the warehouse.

It is not the kind of thing that someone facing down the barrel of a gun should say, and not for the first time since she walked in, Maggie feels a sense of foreboding.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to be making that kind of statement.” she shoots back, swallowing that feeling down again. She hears her voice echo confidently around the warehouse. A product of long experience, for betraying hesitation or fear can get her killed in this line of work.

“Think again.” is all the woman replies with, however, and her eyes are still focused downward, on the delicate-looking device that she’s carefully turning over in her hand, fingers running over it as if testing for damage. There is no doubt from the build of it, that it is of extraterrestrial origin, and intended to be a weapon.

It is then that Maggie hears it. A click echoes softly through the warehouse, and a small light flares at the periphery of her vision.

“Put the gun down, or you go down.” the voice sounds young, like a kid’s, but there are underlying vibrations in it, vibrations that Maggie is pretty sure the human larynx isn’t capable of generating.

The woman’s head snaps up then, which is the most movement she has made since the beginning of the encounter.

“What are you doing here?” she snaps out in the direction of the voice, and Maggie notices that there is annoyance in her tone.

“I ...I followed you.” the other voice replies, haltingly.

The woman lets out a frustrated sigh in response, and really, Maggie feels close to sighing herself, in self-reprimand. She had been so sure. She had scoped out the entire warehouse before entering, sure that she would find only one person. She needs to get herself a partner. A smart one; someone who would have stopped Maggie from walking into such an obvious trap.

“I _said_ put it down.” the boyish voice to her left insists again. Maggie doesn’t dare to turn to look directly at the speaker; her instincts tell her that the woman is the more dangerous of the two, and that to let her out of sight would be a mistake.

“Stop waving that blaster around, and leave before you hurt yourself, Ren.” the woman’s tone is definitely snappy this time, but Maggie can pick out tinges of worry in it.

“But she could hurt you, A-... ma’am.” the boy. Maggie clocks the kid’s momentary stumble over the address, and another piece of the puzzle slots into place in her mind.

The woman makes a dismissive noise. “She’s just some dumb local cop who stumbled in here and thought she could play in the big leagues.”

 _Ouch_ . That one stings, but Maggie is used to being under-estimated, and it looks like she _might_ make it out of this alive, if she plays things safe.

Maggie Sawyer isn’t a cop because she plays things safe.

Instead, she licks her lips, and plays her wild card, the one she hadn’t been sure of until the boy’s slip-up moments ago. “Maybe I know more than you think, Alexandra.”

The woman’s head snaps around fast as a whip then, and her eyes finally meet Maggie’s, liquid brown ones bearing down with laser sharp focus on her own.

Maggie’s first thought is: _Holy Shit._ Her second is: _How do I get myself into these situations?_

 

\---

 

**_A few months earlier..._ **

_“I need a squad to follow up on this lead.” Maggie insists, leaning over the precinct Captain’s desk._

_“Because one of your civilian  informants forwarded you an email that an off-world weapons drop would be made somewhere in Greenville, an area that covers more than half of National City?” Captain Rivera asks, without even looking up from the report she is perusing. “And you want to track it down by next weekend?”_

_“She has proven to be a worthwhile source in the past. We could be onto something here.”_

_“Or it could be a trap.” The captain replies dismissively, “Pass it on to Major Crimes. They’ll want to take over it regardless, as soon as they catch wind of the weapons angle.”_

_“Not when they figure out it involves aliens.” Maggie argues. “You know that we’re the only department that cares.”_

_The captain gives as sigh, as if she’s heard this spiel before - and she has, from Maggie, several times - and pointedly starts marking up her paperwork._

_Maggie resists the urge to sigh in frustration herself._

_“Listen, Captain.” she starts over, “Remember that time when we were looking to lock up those assholes running the Lothmari drug ring, but the judge wouldn’t grant us a warranty to search their house, until I got a video of them shaking on a deal? This is the CI who gave me that video. She’s the real deal.”_

_“-How are we doing on the Veronica Sinclair case?” the captain interrupts her._

_“Roulette?” Maggie asks, momentarily thrown for a loop. “I’m working on it. We know she’s been involved in some kind of illegal undercover operation involving undocumented aliens, and I’m setting up a stakeout to bring her in.”_

_“Good.” The captain nods. “Focus on that instead. We can’t keep the heat on her much longer. Her lawyers are already on our heels, and lord knows they’re better paid than ours.”_

_“Fine.” Maggie takes a deep breath, focuses. “I’ll work this case on my own time. Just give me access to the lab and SWAT gear, and if anything comes out of it, you get to share the credit, as department head. Deal?”_

_The captain sighs. “Are you going to give up if I say no?”_

_Maggie takes that as a yes, and a sleepless week and a half of stakeouts later, she walks into an abandoned warehouse at the corner of 13th and Bellevue, to find a woman standing next to an unmarked van, handling what can only be an alien weapon._

 

\---

 

“I never liked that name.” Alexandra’s voice is casual, as if her fingers aren’t currently curled deceptively softly around Maggie throat, as if the sharp edge of her heels aren’t biting through the thick uniform covering Maggie’s legs.

Maggie grunts, and tries to kick out again. She’s not in pain, not physically. The blow to her ego is going to take a while longer to heal, though, she figures, because Alexandra has disarmed Maggie faster than anyone who has faced off against her, in her all her years as a cop. The gun lying 10 feet in front of Maggie, caught under the the foot off the alien-human-man-boy-child, is conclusive proof of that.

“Alexandra; defender of men; protector of humanity. Bit of a tall order to name a child that, don’t you think?”

And damned if Maggie thought when she woke up this morning that she would be debating baby names with a cutthroat criminal, but if it keeps her alive, she figures she can go along with it.

“Not quite living up to it, are you?” She says, aware that every movement of her throat puts it in dangerous proximity with the hands encircling it. The hold is loose, but there is a lethal promise in it, that Maggie has no intent of seeing fulfilled. “Alien weapons in human hands isn’t making anyone safer, humans or otherwise.”

“I think you want to talk to whoever is writing the gun control laws in our country about that score, not me.” Alexandra actually sounds a bit amused. “And it’s Alex, by the way.”

And okay, this entire conversation is going very strangely and Maggie should probably be concerned about that, but right now she’s more focused on not getting killed, and also on trying to reach her pager without her captor noting.

No such luck. The hands ease from Maggie’s neck, gently, gloriously, only to clamp down on her outstretched arm a moment later. The pager skids out of reach.

_Shit._

"But let’s get down the business.” Alexandra-who-likes-to-be-called-Alex continues, and just like that, the tone is back to casual. “Who are you and how do you know about me?”

Maggie is the one that laughs this time, and it doesn’t even come out sounding hysterical. There is cold sweat breaking out all over her body, but she has thought this through just enough to leave a copy of all the evidence on her desk. Even if she doesn’t make it through this, one of the detectives should be able to follow her tracks... but not if Maggie gave away her source.

“You can’t possibly expect me to answer that honestly.” she says, even as all of this runs through her head.

The pressure bearing down on her body increases infinitesimally, a warning.

“How?” Alex repeats.

“I’m a detective.” Maggie grits out. “I detect.”

She is expecting a threat in return for that, and is surprised to hear nothing but silence for a while.

“I won’t threaten you.” Alex’s voice is still soft, when she finally speaks, but she sounds frustrated too, and Maggie knows she shouldn’t fall for that, but she feels her body relax, a little. Just a little. “But I _do_ want you to know the consequences you are facing. There’s more than one way to make sure this doesn’t get out.”

“Afraid I won’t be giving you the easy way out.” Maggie answers and she knows it’s cocky, it invites anger, but if she’s going to die here, ( _here,_ after Star City and Gotham MCU and the _goddamned Batwoman_ ), at the hands of some common criminal, she is not going to give Alex the satisfaction of a willing surrender.

“You chose this.” Alex tells her.

“Don’t put your choices on my shoulders.” Maggie replies and there’s a grunt, of frustration or anger, she can’t tell, and then she feels cold metal against her temple, and finds her eyes involuntarily closing. _This is it._

She’s had a good run in life so far, but she thinks at some point, she should have kept her head down, and left this save-the-world business to the superhumans.

_Why did I think I could do this?_

Well, it’s too late for regrets now. And after all, if National City is proof of anything, it is that even superheroes fall.

There’s a click.

 

_\---_

 

**_Why?_ **

_Because there is someone in lockup. There is always someone in lockup, but this one catches Maggie’s attention as soon as she walks into the station, with his darkish olive skin that runs to green, and the tell-tale ridges on his arms and face, where smooth skin should be._

_And he’s a child._

_This part is obvious to Maggie, even though she has never encountered this particular species of alien before. The way he holds himself, and the look of terrified defiance in his eyes...she’s reminded of every human pre-teen she’d apprehended._

_“What the fuck?” Maggie whirls around at the deputy on guard. “We’re locking up children now?”_

_“Easy, Sawyer”. Maggie’s colleague backs away from her so fast that his chair slams against the opposite wall. “I’m just on guard duty; it’s not like I brought him in.”_

_Maggie seethes inside, and demands details in an even tone, but the story is the same as it has always been. Kid loitering by a downtown crime scene where alien weapons were involved, looking “shady”. Had weapon discharge on him, although Maggie wagers it could have been found on any of the bystanders, because those particular weapons are wide-range._

_So Maggie keeps raging, and she has the kid moved out of the cell into juvenile hall. She gives him his two phone calls and when the officer who’d made the arrest confronts her, she puts the fear of fucking god into him, because_ how dare he _._

_It’s all for naught, though. When she stalks in the next day, ready to confront his guardians, the detention centre is broken into, the entire station is in uproar, and the kid has disappeared._

_And Maggie swears she will get to the bottom of it._

_It’s that evening, as she’s walking to her car, still furious, that she’s accosted by a woman standing near it. She’s tall, but unassuming looking, with glasses that shelter keen blue eyes. Maggie hesitates, torn between being wary of a confrontation and asking if the woman needs assistance._

_Before she can make up her mind, her visitor speaks._

_“Detective Sawyer?” The figure asks, and then steamrolls on without waiting for an answer. “I’m Kara D...I mean, Kara, just ...Kara. I heard you were looking for information on the Lothmari drug case?”_

 

\---

 

Maggie wakes up to sunlight streaming in from the windows of her apartment, as well as nine missed calls and three angry texts from Emily about missing their date the night before.

The angry texts means that Maggie’s first thought upon waking runs more along the lines of _Shit, there goes another one,_ and less along the lines of   _Shit, I’m still alive_.

She grabs her phone and texts a hasty apology to her girlfriend, hands typing out the words while her mind slowly reconstructs the events of last night.

 _I’m so sorry, babe._ _Work ran late again._ She should probably say more, but Maggie has never really gotten the hang of having entire conversations via text message, so she figures she should save a longer explanation for when she sees Emily face-to-face again.

She mechanically washes up and takes a long shower. Her mind, meanwhile, is chanting relentlessly along the lines of _I thought I was dead. I should’ve have died. I almost died._

Because Maggie _should_ be dead. The woman she’s been tracking down for the last two weeks had disarmed her, and put a gun to her head, and Maggie should have died.

Instead she’s woken up in her own apartment and her knees are protesting a little from being banged against the cement, but her head feels clear, and the sun is streaming in from the windows, and there are red roses by her-

Maggie blinks. She wonders out of the bathroom, back into the bedroom, and stares at the table by her beside.

How could she have overlooked that? There are red roses. Dewy and fresh, with not a single wilted petal among them.

 _It’s a threat_ , is Maggie’s first thought. _It has to be_. It means that Alex knows where she lives now. Knows more, probably, and this is Maggie’s only warning that she does.

There’s a card attached to the roses, with a dime-a-dozen printed message on it, as well as the florist’s number. Maggie snorts at the revoltingly trite message - _I’ll be counting the minutes and seconds until we meet again -_ and tosses it behind her back into the trash.

She turns her attention to the more pressing matter at hand instead: her angry girlfriend. She should stop by Emily’s work and bring her lunch. Maybe grovel a bit, because really, Emily has been more than understanding of Maggie’s odd hours, and Maggie had thought they would really make it, this time.

Except...

Something is tugging at her memory. Maggie has been in the profession long enough to trust her instinct when it comes to things like this, because it often means that her subconscious has picked up on something she missed. She goes back to the trash can and fishes out the card that she had just thrown out.

_I’ll be counting the minutes and seconds till we meet again._

It’s the phone number below it that’s bothering her, Maggie realizes. She had taken it to be the florist’s number at first, but it’s not National City’s area code, and the numbers are grouped strangely; there’s only one dash, and the numbers aren’t divided into groups of three and four.

She evaluates other possibilities. It could be another country’s number and extension code. Even after their brief meeting, Maggie realizes, she wouldn’t have put it past Alex to order flowers from overseas and have it shipped over, just to prove a point about her logistical reach. Right now, though, a more likely explanation is rearing its head.

Maggie picks up a pencil and starts drawing dividing lines between the numbers.  If she takes what she had thought as a dash to be a negative symbol, the numbers following it could be read as GPS coordinates: this many degrees west, this many minutes and seconds west. By elimination, the numbers before it would have be the longitudinal coordinates. Maggie inputs the resulting figures into the GPS app on her phone. It spits out a location that is a 45 minutes drive away from her.

 _That settles it._ Maggie grabs her coat and keys and then pauses, looking back down at the phone, where the nine missed calls from Emily glares accusingly back at her.

 _Sorry, Em._ Putting on her jacket, Maggie takes one final look around her apartment before leaving, her mind already on the chase. _Lunch will have to wait._

 

\---

 

The location that her GPS app zeroed in on turns out to be a series of storage units in the northern part of the city.

Maggie parks on the opposite corner of the street from where the storage facility is located, in the parking lot of a dingy little strip mall. She scopes out the area from her police-issue van, glad that she decided not the take her bike on this one, as she usually does. There’s a fair bit of traffic on this side of the intersection, between cars stopping at the gas station and people headed towards the diners in the strip mall. The other side, though, looks deserted as far as she can tell.

Maggie takes a deep breath and gets out, briskly walking past the mall and across the road. She’s reasonably sure that she isn’t headed into an ambush, because it would have been a lot less trouble to have killed her right at the warehouse, and Alex strikes Maggie as supremely efficient, if nothing else.

Well, Maggie thinks, she’s come this far on trust. She walks across the length of the storage units, scoping them out. They all seem to be lock-and-key units, and there definitely wasn’t a key attached to the card.

Maggie looks around furtively, goes back to the first unit, and starts pulling at the door of each unit, her fingers wedged under the metal joints to get what little purchase she could.

The fourth one she tries swings forward, almost hitting her in the face. Maggie recoils, and then peeks inside, to find a folder. It is packed to bulging with papers and files, with a label affixed neatly to the top of it: _Roulette._

Maggie opens the folder right there and flips through the files, confusion growing. It’s divided into sections - arson, laundering, kidnapping - by someone who clearly has an affinity for organization, albeit of a disturbing turn. A lot of it confirms what Maggie already knew of Veronica Sinclair’s racket, and some of the evidence provided are duplicates of what she’s already uncovered herself. The rest of it, however - the money donated in secret to several sitting US senators, for instance - are things she had had no idea about. And, at the very end - Alex’s idea of a joke, Maggie figures - there’s a shot of an expired liquor license, made out to Veronica Sinclair.

Maggie snaps the folder shut, confusion mired by a haze of guilt and fury. How does Alex know about the case that she’s been working for the past year to crack? How much does she know, and since when?

She stalks out of the locker room without bothering to lock it behind her. It doesn’t make sense. Has Maggie been played this whole time, and if so, to what end? It’s the last question that plagues her mind, as she crosses the road at a near-run, speeding past the gas station, past the diners-

Maggie stops in her tracks and then retraces her steps.

She looks up at the diner. _Rosa’s Sandwiches._ It had been there before, of course. She had passed it without a second thought when she walked from her car to the storage lockers. Then again, Maggie reasons, her mind had been too full, then, with thoughts of the storage locker itself, and what would be in it.

A second look around the area and she figures out what is bugging her. The mall had been reasonably busy before, but now it is far too packed for an area that is so out of the way, and the traffic is mostly concentrated around this diner. It looks to be more traffic than the place can handle; it’s been years since Maggie worked in Parking Enforcement, but at least two of the vans are squeezed into designated no-parking zones.

She looks around, a seed of an idea growing in her mind. The diner definitely looks like it’s seen better days, and the paint is faded from years of exposure, but the sign is setting off some bells. Maggie eyes the matronly-looking figure painted on it, holding a bunch of unmistakably red roses in one hand and a steaming dish in the other. _It can’t be._

As if on clockwork, her phone buzzes with an incoming text from an unknown number.

_Come on in, detective. I’ve been waiting for you._

 

_\---_

 

Maggie takes her time going in, both to pay Alex back for the runaround, and to collect her own thoughts. She does a visual check of the perimeter, sends a short text to check in with the deputy on call at her precinct, and then writes up two tickets for the cars parked illegally, before she opens the door of the diner.

 _She has a talent for blending in_ , is her first thought, as soon as she walks in and spots the familiar figure of Alex seated at the corner table of the diner, now in a black sweatshirt and pants, ostensibly reading a newspaper.

Maggie hadn’t realized it, that night at the warehouse, when it had been just the two of them, but she sees it now. It’s not the looks alone, although Alex’s casual outfit is a far cry from the polished woman in heels that Maggie had encountered at the warehouse. It’s also in the way Alex carries herself, hunched over the table almost diffidently, as if she’s used to people overlooking her. As if she’s used to breaking herself down, and reinventing herself to fit the situation.

And yet, Maggie is reminded again as she walks towards that table, that this woman is anything but ordinary. At every table Maggie passes, she spots movement out of the corner of her eyes, as heads turn subtly to keep her in line of sight. Twice, she catches the glint of what can only be hidden weapons.

It is as she expected, really. In truth, Maggie thinks that she might have been disappointed with anything less.

“You should really teach your guys better gun safety.” she says by way of greeting, when she reaches Alex’s table. “Table 2 looks ready to shoot himself in the crotch anytime now, the way he’s got that gun shoved halfway up his back pocket, with the safety off.”

Alex glances up from the newspaper at her, and does something odd; she smiles at Maggie.

“It’s good to see you too, Detective Sawyer.”

The smile throws Maggie off more than the fact that Alex knows her last name. Being smiled at by a weapons-smuggling kingpin isn’t something she’s subjected to everyday, and so her hands are shaking a little, when she throws down the Sinclair folder on the table.

“I can’t take these.” she says. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, or where you get your information, but you couldn’t have possibly expected the court to accept tainted evidence like this.”

“And that’s the only reason you won’t accept it?” Alex asks. She links her hands under her chin and looks up at Maggie. It’s a bit dramatic, and very textbook femme fatale, and Maggie dislikes it that it actually _works._

“Do you need a better one?” she shoots back, sitting down. “How about the fact that you’re a criminal, and I should not even be here right now?”

“So you’re willing to let her get away to protect yourself.” Alex says. She actually sounds offended, which to Maggie is a ludicrous reaction coming from a criminal. “Is getting your hands dirty really so high a price to pay, detective, in the pursuit of justice?”

Maggie counts to ten in her head. Alex’s remark rankles, but Maggie knows that it’s meant to, and she also knows that it rankles all the more because there’s a kernel of truth in the accusation.

“Tell me.” she begins, by the time she’s made it across to Neon. “Was this all a game to you from the start? Did you let me find you? Did you know from the start that I was in charge of Veronica Sinclair’s case?”

Alex’s expression doesn’t change, but her face lifts upwards searchingly for a second, which gives Maggie the feeling that she’s as confused as Maggie herself is.

“Did I let you walk in and potentially jeopardize an important operation, merely for my own amusement?” Alex asks. “No. Did I know that the NCPD has been dogging Roulette’s footsteps for a while now? Yes, that is common information in my circles.”

Maggie considers pressing the matter further, but if Alex is truly as confused as she seems to be, then Maggie would only be giving information away. She decides to pursue her initial line of argument instead.

“You’re asking me to stake my professional reputation on possibly tampered evidence handed to me by a criminal I just met.”

“Then cross-examine it yourself.” Alex’s response is instant. “It’ll stand up to scrutiny.”

“I think you’re missing the point.”

“What I’m saying is that your point is irrelevant.” Alex argues. “Professional reputation aside, I guarantee you that all the cops in your department together could not have found out about half of the pies that Roulette has her hands in. Her tracks are well-covered...and well-protected.”

Well, that oblique statement chips away at the already meagre faith that Maggie has in the integrity of the high-ups at NCPD, but she can’t let herself dwell on that now.

“Are you willing to let her go, after everything she’s been involved in?” Alex continues. “Kidnapping, murder, forced labour, arson, off-world human trafficking...”

Maggie is aware of her head tilting to hold Alex’s gaze. “That last one is new.” she says, and she can’t help the wry smile that on her face. “There was nothing about trafficking in the files.”

“Some things are too dangerous to be allowed on paper.” Alex shrugs, and casually hands over a small thumbdrive, as if she was passing Maggie the salt shaker at a dinner gathering. “But there should be sufficient proof in this. I trust that you will see justice done, and that there’s an end to the victims’ suffering.”

“Is that why you were noble enough to bring me this information?” Maggie asks, even as she pockets the drive. The skepticism in her voice must show, because Alex smiles again suddenly, brilliantly. “Virtue is its own reward, and all that?”

“Putting a rival out of business is its reward enough, Detective Sawyer.” Then Alex shrugs. “And if I happen to think that there are industries that no one should be moving in, well, that’s just a bonus.”

Maggie doesn’t like the way her heart sits a little lighter when Alex says that. She’s very aware that she could be being manipulated right now. Scratch that; she _is_ being manipulated. Maggie just doesn’t know _why._

“You don’t believe me.” Alex says softly, looking at her with an almost hurt expression on her face. “But you and I are more alike than you think, detective.”

Maggie is struck again by how different Alex is, from everything she had expected. Vulnerable, yet lethal. Easily irritated, yet cool-headed. She seems to shift through emotions with the fluidity of quicksand.

“You and me?” she repeats back, more amused than insulted, because she cannot imagine having anything in common with the dangerous woman in front of her.

“You would be surprised at how alike we once were.”

There is nothing that Maggie can say to that, really, so she looks down, tracing the grain of the wooden table with her finger, as Alex’s words echo in her mind.

Her stomach chooses then to rumble, loudly reminding Maggie that she hasn’t eaten in almost 20 hours. The sudden noise disperses the tension that has fallen over the table.

“I think we should order some food.” Alex says, eyebrows raised. “I haven’t eaten all day myself.”

“I’m not hungry.” Maggie replies stubbornly, when Alex pushes the menu towards her.

“They make good burgers.”

 _Interesting_. Maggie wouldn’t have taken Alex for a homemade-burger-at-a-mom-and-pop-diner kind of person.

Maggie turns the offer down regardless. She’s starving, but she already feels indebted to the woman by a reprehensible amount - which was no doubt Alex’s intention from the start. Accepting food that Alex had bought for her would be the last nail in an overtacked coffin.

So Maggie sits there and Alex orders food - far too much for one person to consume alone - and Maggie watches her eat, carefully putting the fries into her mouth one after another, the rhythm of her hands fast and precise. In this setting, under the fluorescent lights of the diner, it’s hard to recall that that, a mere 48 hours ago, those same hands had disarmed Maggie and threatened to end her life.

“What did you do with the kid?” Maggie asks, finally.

That gets Alex’s attention. She blinks mid-chew. The gesture should not look that innocent and endearing. “The kid?”

“The one you broke out of lockup at the precinct.” Maggie elaborates. “I know it was you.”

Maggie expects evasion, if not flat-out denial, in response to that, but Alex surprises her.

“Why does it matter to you?” she asks Maggie. “It’s just one less body in the system.”

“He was a kid.”

“An alien kid.” Alex is watching Maggie closely, eyes narrowed. “Not like the cops care about them.”

“I do.” says Maggie simply. “And I want to know what you did with him.”

“You helped him.” Alex is staring at Maggie, as if seeing her for the first time. “He told me there a cop at the station, someone who stuck up for him. That was you.”

Maggie is aware of her own eyebrows raising this time.”I was only following the book.”

Alex keeps staring at her, though, and Maggie has to fight the impulse to shift in her chair.

“You’ve met him.” Alex says eventually. Her tone has become dismissive again, and she’s looking down at her still-nearly-full plate again, as if bored with this discussion.  

Maggie opens her mouth to question the statement, and then thinks about it for a while.

“The kid that was with you at the warehouse.” she says, in the end. “The one you called...Ren?”

“That’s the interesting thing about Rothlorians.” Alex’s voice is condescending, bordering on professorial, as if this was a lecture room rather than a negotiation. “Their genes allow them to shapeshift and camouflage pretty well, and their body’s chemical makeup means that they don’t even show up on thermal scanners.”

So that’s where she had gone wrong. That’s why she had thought there was only one person in the warehouse, when she had walked in. Maggie reminds herself to ask at the bar about Rothlorians; she’s never encountered one personally before, but M’gann probably has, and she happens to owe Maggie a favour.

It suddenly occurs to Maggie, then, that Alex could be an alien herself. That would explain the protectiveness, and the jailbreak and-

“Is he your family?” She asks, before her brain has fully processed this line of thought. “Is that what this is about?”

Alex looks up and her face is suddenly frozen. Her mouth works but it feels like ages before she says something.

“What?” she asks, and it is the hoarsest of whispers.

“Nevermind.” Maggie backtracks, but Alex is still staring at her, wide-eyed and still. “I just, I thought that...might be the case.”

“You thought wrong.” Alex’s words are coming out slow and choppy, dis-oriented, “I don’t...you-”

“Fine.” Maggie says suddenly. She doesn’t know what, exactly, has caused this sudden change of mood that Alex seems to be experiencing, but Maggie’s instinct - borne out of years of experience - tells her that she needs to seal the deal before it develops further. “Ok, I’ll pass the evidence on to our attorneys.”

Alex looks stymied, and her mouth clamps shut, but at least her face doesn’t look halfway between wanting to cry and wanting to murder someone anymore.

“I might need your help in getting the evidence authenticated, though.” Maggie continues, more to prompt a response than anything.

“I thought you might come to see my point of view.” Alex says, finally, and Maggie barely manages to hold down a sigh of relief.

“You’re awfully confident for someone who was insulting everything from my professional ethics to my morals a minute ago.” she comments instead, hoping to turn the matter back to less turbulent ground.

Alex frowns, her lips almost pouting, as if the reply wasn’t the one she had been expecting. “I meant, that we both know that someone has to make the hard choices.”

Maggie looks down, words dying on her lips. Alex only nods, however, as if she knows exactly what is on Maggie’s mind.

"Have a good day, detective.”

It is a clear dismissal, and so Maggie stands up silently, collecting her things. The captain will be expecting her report on the Sinclair case by the evening.

She is just turning away from the table, when it occurs to her that Alex still sounds disoriented, as though Maggie’s earlier question has completely shaken her up. Maggie hesitates, and turns around. Alex is looking down again, the food forgotten, eyes skimming over the newspaper. “Thank you.”

Alex doesn’t even look up.

 

\--

 

Veronica Sinclair is all icy smiles and condescension when Maggie’s team arrests her at her penthouse apartment in National City’s downtown core.

“Who was it, detective?” she asks. “Who squealed?”

Maggie reads her her Miranda rights instead of replying, and doesn’t breathe easily until Sinclair is safely behind bars at the precinct - in a cell, Maggie notes, that is comfortable than most starter apartments.

It takes Maggie until almost midnight to complete the paperwork on the arrest, and she has to fight Minelli from the night shift for first dibs at the printer, but she walks into Captain Rivera’s office to hand in her preliminary report, just as the captain is finishing up her quarterly budgeting report for the precinct.

“I’m afraid we’ll get someone from the FBI wanting to talk to you about the trafficking.” the captain informs Maggie, as she flips over the report and adjoining files. “But I’ll pass on the rest of the file to prosecution, along with your report. Looks like Sinclair won’t be out on bail anytime soon.”

“The feds are taking over?” Maggie asks, unable to keep the skepticism out of her voice.

“Day in the life, Sawyer.” is the blunt reply she gets. “You know how the game works. We’re definitely going to need their help cleaning this one up.”

“It’s just...” Maggie blanks out, the tiredness of a long day taking over her brain, and decides that diplomacy isn’t really at her fingertips right now. “They’ve kind of blown me off when I tried to approach them about Roulette before.”

“And now they are not.” Captain Rivera replies. “Unsubstantiated rumours about alien fight rings and underpaid alien workers are one thing, but now that we’ve got some all-American kids involved in a potential statewide trafficking operation...” The captain trails off.

“...They’ll finally pay attention.” Maggie finishes. It’s a depressing indictment of her profession, and of humanity in general, but one that she is aware that she cannot change by herself.

“Either way, you did good, kid.” the captain says abruptly, and her mouth is curved infinitesimally upwards as she looks up at Maggie, and Maggie is suddenly looking away, at the walls, the door, the report on the captain’s desk.

“Thanks ma’am.” she replies eventually, when she’s running out of directions to stare in.

“Jesus, learn to take a compliment, Sawyer.” the captain says, amused, and waves a hand towards the door. Maggie moves towards it, all too glad for the escape.

“I’m glad you dropped that wild goose chase about the alien weapons, by the way.” the captain says absentmindedly, when Maggie is almost out the door.

Maggie freezes with one hand on the doorknob, but the captain is already looking back down at her paperwork.

“Have fun with the girlfriend, Sawyer.” The tone is a definite dismissal, and Maggie is only too glad to comply.

“Right.” she mutters, wincing as Emily’s irate text re-enters her mind. She shoves the guilt back away, and steps out of the office, closing the door softly behind her. “Still working on that one, I’m afraid.”

 

\---

 

When Maggie pulls into her apartment’s underground parking garage sometime after 1am that night, she is thoroughly exhausted, between Alex and all the running around and the meeting with the captain. Otherwise, she would have remembered to check the security camera app that she’d installed on her phone, before entering her the apartment.

As it is, Maggie enters before she realizes that someone is already in there. For one thing, she can see a faint light coming from the kitchen and for another thing, she can hear them munching on something.

She should have drawn her gun then, but Maggie’s first thought that rises through the fog of exhaustion, is that it’s Emily. That her girlfriend has come back, that this is why she wasn’t returning Maggie’s texts or answering her phone calls, because she wanted to talk face-to-face, because-

-The figure walks out of the kitchen and Maggie ducks behind the hallway closet and draws her gun, before her brain has fully processed the observation that led to her actions. It had only been a brief glimpse, and silhouetted in darkness, but the intruder had been too tall to be Emily, her hair too long and bright.

“Hello?” the voice sounds sweet, and tentative, and somewhat familiar.

Maggie grips the gun tighter; she prefers de-escalation tactics, and is already going through the applicable ones in her head, but sometimes the mere threat of a gun serves to defuse a situation.

“Who are you?” she calls out, trying to figure out where she remembers that voice from. Recent arrests, a dirty cop, another one of Sinclair’s goons sent to intimidate her...

“A friend.” the reply comes instantly. “I’m ...I mean... I’m really sorry about dropping in on you like this! I’m not looking for trouble.”

“You’ve found it.” Maggie calls back, but she can feel some of the tension leave her stance, because this isn’t going the way a standup usually does. Usually, the other party has a gun pointed at her by now, or at the least, a threat flung her way.

She twists around to get line of sight without leaving herself exposed, and catches a shadowy glimpse of the intruder, with their hands spread wide in a conciliatory gesture.

“That gun won’t-” the intruder begins, and then stops, “I mean, that gun won’t be necessary.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Maggie replies, without leaving her spot behind the closer. “Hands up. Now, please.”

She can see the hands going up, but then the intruder starts walking forward slowly, as one would while approaching a skittish pet.

“It looks like we got off on the wrong foot.” she begins, when she’s face to face with Maggie, and Maggie blinks a little as she’s hit in the face with an oddly familiar 1000-watt smile.

“A cop.” Maggie interrupts. She re-adjusts her grip on her gun, more to draw Kara’s attention to it, than out of any intention of using it. “A cop whose home you just broke into.”

“But I really needed to talk to you in person and I couldn’t break into the police station.” the intruder replies earnestly, waving around a half-eaten bar of chocolate, which must have been what Maggie had heard earlier. “That would be against the law.”

Maggie shoots her an incredulous look, and she has the grace to look abashed, at least.

“More...against the law?” she ventures, and the sheepishly defensive tone the words are delivered in would be adorable and hilarious, at any other time.

“What did you want to talk about?” Maggie asks. She lets her hands fall to her sides, along with the gun: a small concession, an invite to parley.

Maggie doesn’t receive a reply at first. Instead, her visitor reaches into her pocket and pulls out a pair of glasses, which she puts on. She then ties her hair up into a makeshift bun using a rubber band looped around her arm.

“Maybe this will jog your memory?” she asks Maggie.

Maggie hears a sharp intake of breath, realizes it is her own. She hadn’t caught the resemblance at first, without the glasses and the hair, and she had only met her in person once before, at dusk, but -

“It’s you.” she says, as Kara puts the glasses away and lets her hair fall back down. “The one who gave me the video for the Lothmari case.”

“And the one who emailed you the tip on where to find the missing Rohltikon.” Kara reminds her, with a playful sort of pride. “And the one who found that stolen Helgrammite missile for you.”

Maggie remembers that last day unsurprisingly well. There had been a box left overnight in the precinct fridge, containing the remains of a coworker’s department-supplied birthday cake . Maggie’s squad had come in the next day to find the entire cake missing. In the empty box, safely shielded, had been the hand-held nuclear missile of Helgrammite origin that Maggie’s entire squad has been frantically trying to track down for weeks.

“You need to stop eating our food.” she says, exhausted brain protesting as it works overtime. “The entire squad keeps getting mad at _me_.”

Kara gives an embarrassed shrug, and ducks her head. “In my defense, it was close to expiring. And you keep forgetting to eat your breakfast.”

“Why?” Maggie asks simply, and she knows that Kara knows that she’s not asking about the food. _Why are you helping me?_ In her experience, people usually have an ulterior motive. A shortened sentence, a grudge against someone, a wish for publicity, _something._

“Because a crime was about to happen and you could stop it?” the reply is phrased like a question, which isn’t particularly reassuring to Maggie.

“The city thanks you for your service, then.” she says, and feels a bit bad when Kara’s face falls visibly at hearing the sardonic tone. “You sent me that email about the drop that Alex was making too, didn’t you?”

“What happened?” Kara asks, and Maggie takes the lack of denial as confirmation. “Why didn’t you stop her?”

Her tone is carefully measured, as if she is trying very hard not to sound accusatory. Maggie feels guilty nevertheless. The memory of how thoroughly and efficiently Alex had disarmed her is still raw in her mind, and she suspects it will remain that way for quite sometimes. _I should have fought harder to get a team; I should have called for backup._

“That’s classified information.” she says out loud, instead.

“No.” Kara’s hands gravitate to her hips, as a fierce look appears on her face, and despite the self-consciousness of the gesture, there is something incredibly familiar about it that Maggie can’t quite place. “I have helped you, detective. Now I need you to help me.”

Maggie’s hand - the one holding her gun - twitches, but she keeps it firmly down.

“If this is about some sort of grudge between the two of you...” she begins, but Kara is already emphatically shaking her head, looking shocked at the very thought.

“It won’t matter.” Maggie finishes. “Because I’m not qualified to tell even my colleagues anything at the moment, seeing as we haven’t moved forward with a case yet.”

“A case?” Kara looks a little taken aback. “Against her?”

Maggie is aware of her eyebrows rising. “Alex is a criminal. She breaks the law. We arrest her. We try her. What did you expect to happen?”

“I just...wanted to stop her.” Kara replies, looking down. “I just thought .. if someone could stop her...”

“That she would give it up?” Maggie asks, and she can’t help but feel sympathy for this near-stranger in front of her, because she’s seen similar stories play out a hundred times before. That someone would change for you, if you cared for them enough. If you helped them enough. If you loved them enough. That they’d come to understand your point of view, if you gave them enough time.

Maggie is living proof that they won’t.

But Kara is shaking her head.

“She’s not like that.” she says. “You don’t know her. She’s different.”

The hope in her voice is so palpable that Maggie has to look down. Away.

“What do you want to know?” she asks finally, re-establishing eye-contact, because she figures she owes Kara this much. Owes her more, really, for indirectly giving Maggie a fighting chance at locking away Roulette for good, but this much, at least.

“How was she?” the question comes out in a whisper, and Maggie is suddenly glad that she hasn’t moved to turn the hall lights on, because then she can pretend that she didn’t see the raw, half-agonized, expression on Kara’s face when she asks it.

“Healthy?” she ventures, not quite knowing how to answer such a question, although she’s reasonably sure that something positive is needed.”Perfectly in control?”

“She always was.” Kara smiles, and it is a little sad, but it is also _fond_ , and now Maggie is really wondering what the hell is going on _._

“Listen,” she begins embarrassed, “Why don’t you tell me what you need to know, and I’ll see if I can disclose that information?”

“Anything!” Kara says, the answer almost tripping over Maggie’s question in her eagerness. “What did she look like? What did she say? Was she hurt?”

And so, Maggie finds herself talking. She tries to leave out the specifics of what had happened at the warehouse, and she starts out as if she’s testifying on trial, because that how she’s used to doing this. But Kara seems more interested in other details, like what Alex said, and whether she was hurt in the fight, and oddly enough, what food she ordered. Maggie switches to focus on things like that, and it’s a bit harder, because god knows she’s never been good at that kind of talk. Kara hangs on to every detail Maggie tells her about Alex, though, and the earnest hunger in her eyes for more information chips away at Maggie’s reservations. At some point in the story, Kara unearths more chocolate bars from her pocket and even offers Maggie one, as if it is a great sacrifice.

More than an hour has passed, and Maggie’s eyes are drooping from exhaustion, and her story winding down into repetitions, when Kara finally lifts herself off the floor, and reluctantly says “I guess I should go now.”

Maggie nods, too sleepy for pleasantries, and Kara moves towards the window.

“Hey.” Maggie calls softly, and Kara turns back. “Thanks. I don’t know why you’ve been helping me out so much, but it’s appreciated. Just...don’t go around entering people’s houses without permission, though.”

Kara nods sheepishly, though a sunny smile graces her face at Maggie’s gratitude.

“I, uh, might have fried that.” she says, looking back at Maggie and then pointing to the intruder alarm that Maggie had installed on the window.

Maggie looks at the shattered remains of the alarm. She should be annoyed, she knows. But right now, she’s a little impressed that this unassuming girl managed to pick it out when Maggie had gone to a lot of trouble to camouflage it among the bonsai trees that line her window sill.

“You’ve got good eyes.” she comments, and Kara grins, like she’s in on a joke that Maggie isn’t.

“The door’s this way, though” Maggie points, finally flicking on the light and pointing in the opposite direction.

“Don’t you worry about that, Miss Sawyer.” her informant replies, and that line would probably have sounded pretty cool, if she isn’t busy munching on the last remaining chocolate bar in between words.

Maggie has to laugh. The whole thing reminds her a little of the overeager kids at the community centre she volunteers at during downtimes. “Know your way around, do you?”

Her informant grins again.

“Something like that.”

Before Maggie can react, she’s stuffed the rest of the chocolate into her mouth, gripped the window latch and thrown herself out of it.

Maggie rushes to the window, but there’s nothing but the swinging lunch and the cool rush of air sweeping in from outside. She feels around the window, and around the outside of the building, searching for a depression, some-tell tale sign of a grappling hook being used. _Nothing._

“That’s not possible.” Maggie says out loud, more to reassure herself than anything else. She lives three stories up. Could it have been suction cups? Or maybe Kara is one of those free solo climbers-

Maggie stops herself. _Too much._ She’s had too much to deal with today. She needs to get some rest _now_ , and process this new information tomorrow.

Still...Maggie checks her phone again. Nothing from Emily. She waffles. She _should_ go to sleep. But she also knows that her girlfriend - if Emily is still willing to be that - should be getting off her shift right about now. And maybe, just maybe, the reason that she hasn’t replied to Maggie yet is because she was too busy at work, and now she’ll finally call, and then Maggie can apologize.

The faint hope wins out, and Maggie turns on the TV to distract herself, while she waits for a reply. She flicks to CCW, looking to catch the tail end of the Golden Girls rerun, but is greeted by the all-too-familiar logo of the news segment instead.

“-marks his second emergency press conference in as many weeks.” CatCo Worldwide’s late night news anchor is saying. “Senators Crane and Marsden have both spoken out against the introduction of such a bill as the one proposed by the President-Elect-”

 _Not this again._ Maggie reaches for the remote again, just as her phone buzzes.

She lunges for it instead, and then feels her heart drop when she sees _Unknown Number_ blinking on the screen. Any remaining hope of it being her girlfriend disappears when she sees the message itself, abrupt and unsigned.

_Well done on Veronica’s arrest, detective. The parking tickets were below the belt. Sweet dreams._

Maggie stands there, staring at the screen long after it dims and turns off.

So far in the past week, she’s been kidnapped, stunned, shot at, and now she’s gone and put a considerable amount of professional and personal trust in the woman who had been doing the kidnapping, stunning, and shooting.

She should be terrified.

So why, Maggie wonders, as she stands there alone in her apartment that has always felt too large, does it feel like _this_ is the most alive that she’s felt in years?

 

\---


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie faces the unforeseen consequences of making a major arrest, Alex and Kara both need Maggie's help, and everyone learns a little bit more about having faith in each other.

Maggie wakes up to the incessant beeping of her cellphone, a full three hours before she’s due to start her shift.

“Sawyer.” The voice of Captain Rivera comes through the phone, when Maggie finally fumbles her way into accepting the call.

“What’s going on, boss?” Maggie asks, pulling back the curtain on her windows and squinting into the bright sunlight, as she waits for an answer. The captain isn’t really the type to make friendly check-up-on-you calls. It’s always been one of Maggie’s favourite things about her.

“I guess you haven’t seen the news.”

“The news?” Maggie blinks, a feeling of dread already overtaking her. “Hold on.”

She pulls up the news app on her phone, clicks through to the feed, and groans almost as soon as the page loads. The headline is about Veronica Sinclair’s arrest, and one of the photographers have managed to get a shot of the arrest itself, with Maggie leading Sinclair out to the van.

In hindsight, Maggie guesses she shouldn’t be surprised. The arrest of an heir to one of the country’s biggest investment management companies was bound to be front page news.

“The media is going to have a field day, aren’t they?” she asks. Bad enough that this case has been eating up her shifts for the past few months; now she’ll have to read about it at every newsstand and convenience store that she passes by.

“That’s actually what I was calling you about.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“No.” Maggie says. “Hell no.”

“You were filmed making the arrest, Sawyer.” the captain sounds far too amused as she replies. “They all want to talk to _you_ , I’m afraid.”

“So I’m being called into work early so I can feed lines to reporters all day?” Maggie grumbles, shuffling around the room to get her things together.

“Not just any reporter.” the captain says, “Cat Grant herself is your first appointment today.”

Maggie curses, as she almost trips over in her haste to get to her planner, and see if she has any more allocated days off.

“You’re not taking a sick day, Sawyer.” the captain’s flat voice comes over the phone.

“How did you-” Maggie starts, and then trails off defeatedly. “But seriously, captain, Cat Grant?”

“This is a very high profile arrest, and since you’re lead, you get to do the honors.”

“Oh my god.” Maggie groans. She has only had to deal with interns from CatCo in the past, when giving routine statements and press releases about cases, but just about every one of her squad who had to deal with the media magnate herself, has a horror story to tell.

“God might as well be the right word, as far as how much sway she has in how Sinclair’s arrest is covered,” the captain replies, somewhat sacrilegiously for a practising Catholic, in Maggie’s estimation. “So please, Sawyer, _do not_ piss off the Queen of All Media, unless you want to put the NCPD in her crosshairs.”

“No promises.” Maggie says, and then, “I better be in for one hell of a bonus for this.”

“I’ll put in a request for a new coffeemaker for the department.” is the dry reply she gets, before the captain ends the call.

Maggie glares mutinously at the blank screen, and then scrolls down to check her missed call alerts. Nothing from Emily yet, but there’s two calls, from two different unknown numbers, that had come in seconds apart in the morning.

Maggie sighs. Three guesses as to who that could be. This day is going to be even longer than she had imagined.

 

\---

 

Maggie gets dressed in record time, and is already routing her bike’s GPS to CatCo, when the Captain sends her a text with the address to an upscale restaurant instead.

Maggie walks into the place with some trepidation, acutely aware that she’s not dressed for the occasion, but it seems to be empty save for one occupied table, which the maitre d’ leads her to immediately.

“There you are.” the woman seated at the table, who can be none other than Cat Grant, says, without looking up from a large stack of papers that she seems to be making corrections to.

Maggie pivots on the balls of her feet for a moment, before taking the seat opposite Grant.

“Ms. Grant?” she asks formally, and is rewarded with an annoyed click of the tongue from the woman opposite her.

“Tell me, is there a chance I could be anyone else?”

Maggie has to smother a smile. It seems that her initial estimation of the woman hadn’t been far off the mark.

“Kind of expected you to meet met at your headquarters.” she says, “Sounds like it’d be more your style.”

Cat Grant looks up then, seeming fairly bemused at the comment.

“And what would my style be?” she asks, eyebrows furrowed inwards.

“I-” Maggie starts, and then purses her lips, because the words rising to her mind - words like _draconian_ and _arrogant_ and _controlling_ \- are from watercooler discussions at the station, and this woman in front of her, though small in stature, seems to dwarf such uncomplicated descriptors.

It is Grant who rescues her, as she wrestles with this new insight.

“I felt like a change of scenery.” she replies, to Maggie’s question. “I like coming here when I’m working on something new. I can always count on the owner to reserve the place for me for a couple of hours.”

Maggie blinks, takes a second look at the empty tables around her, and then nods, trying to look as if she meets with people who do that kind of thing everyday in her line of work.

“So, you’re the brave detective who worked tirelessly to expose Sinclair’s ignominious list of rackets.” Grant states.

Maggie can feel herself starting to shift in her seat, and compensates for it by meeting Grant’s eyes steadily, though they are bearing down on her like precision lasers. “I led the team that made the arrest.”

“You’re wary, detective.” Grant observes.

Maggie shrugs, and gives what she’s aware is a grin that is rather on edge. “You’re the press. I’m a cop. Do I really need to spell it out?”

“So you think I’ve called you here to interrogate you?” Grant asks.

“I’m here to answer questions you might have regarding the arrest.” Maggie says.

“As it happens, I am not who you should be wary of.” Cat says, circling back to her original statement, and leaving Maggie somewhat reeling.

She raises her eyebrows in question, inwardly regretting that she had entered this meeting without grabbing a coffee beforehand.

“A press release should be going out in five minutes,” Cat Grant says, looking much like her namesake as she relays this information, “I am stepping down from CatCo for a temporary leave of absence. James Olsen will be taking my place as Editor-in-Chief.”

Maggie vaguely remembers the name from an article she had read about some award or other, but try as she might, she can’t put a face to it.

“But if you aren’t the editor anymore,” she fumbles, trying to absorb and order the new information in her head, “Why did you ask to talk to me?”

“Because I’m still on the CatCo board of directors.” Cat responds, wiping her lips daintily with a napkin. “And I want the rest of the board to know that I am onboard with the alien outreach project from the get-go.”

"So what do you need from me?” Maggie asks, because she figures “Can I go now?” won’t go over well with the Queen of All Media.

“That includes reaching out to the officer who pursued the case against Roulette so doggedly.” Cat Grant says, and Maggie resists the urge to squirm in her seat, as those discerning eyes focus on her again.  “And, now...”

She pauses, and Maggie remembers that there had been no mention of Sinclair's alias in the media, and the NCPD certainly had not leaked it. Which means Grant, or CatCo, must have been on Sinclair's tail too, and likely for as long as the NCPD had been.

“And now?” she prompts, instead of remarking on this.

“Now, we have talked.” Cat says simply.

“What.”

“You heard me.” Cat says. “We have been spotted talking, the paparazzi will snap a picture, and the board will be satisfied. Now, chop chop.”

She waves her hands outward, and Maggie finds herself rising from her chair automatically.

“I’ll get my assistant to drop James a line, so he’ll know to expect you.”

“Much appreciated.” Maggie echoes faintly, feeling somewhat as if a hurricane has descended on her. A hurricane in runway couture and Louboutin heels, but who leaves her feeling no less uprooted for all that.

Cat Grant nods at her response, and looks back down at the stack of papers she’d been marking up. When she doesn’t look back up in the next five seconds, Maggie takes that as her cue to exit.

“Now where is that girl?” she can hear Grant mutter, as she pushes her chair in and walks away. “Kiera, how long does it take to get a to-go box ready? I need you to give James a call! Kiera!”

Maggie has to smile, even as she walks away. Whoever Cat Grant’s assistant is, she’s got one hell of a job.

 

\---

 

She’s just exiting the restaurant lobby, when her work phone rings.

“Sawyer.” she responds. “What’s the situation?” It can’t be an emergency, or dispatch would have put the call through to one of the cars on patrol, so Maggie figures it must be something small happening in the area.

“Hello to you too, Maggie.” the perpetually disgruntled tones of Nina, the station’s police dispatcher, responds.

“What’s up Nina?” Maggie asks, stifling a smile.

She strides over to her bike, registering the salient details of the situation as Nina relays them. Some busybody calling to report a noisy part in a warehouse two blocks away; non-emergency, as expected.

“I’ll handle it, Nina.” she says, revving up the engine.

“I’d ask if you want backup-” Nina begins, and Maggie has to grin at the long-suffering sigh that follows.

“But I work alone.” she finishes for her, and disconnects the call when nothing further is relayed down the line.

She covers the distance to the coordinates that Nina transmitted easily on her bike. The warehouse is almost dead-silent when she dismounts, which tells Maggie that either she is in the wrong location, or Nina was mistaken. Either way, she should probably walk away, or call for backup now.

Maggie walks towards the warehouse.

She is lingering by the entrance, listening, when quiet voices echoing in the interior give her pause. She registers the baritone murmurs first, and then the higher voice of a woman.

A familiar voice.

Maggie dithers, and then knocks loudly on the steel door.

She can hear the metallic echo of the knock booming inside, and the voices quiet almost at once, before a whispered conversation starts up.

“Come in.” Alex voice calls out after some moments of this, and Maggie pushes the door open, to see Alex facing a group of men in suits. She’s caressing a weapon in her hands the way Maggie has seen other people caress treasured pets, and Maggie gets a sudden feeling of déjà vu.

She tucks her gun out of sight as she approaches, glad that she’d decided not to clip her badge on her belt as she usually does. In her civilian outfit, she knows she doesn’t look very threatening, but that doesn’t stop two guns and a rifle from being pointed in her direction, as she nears the group.

Maggie puts her hand up slowly, but doesn’t back away. She stands there, in limbo, as the suits stare at her in consternation, and her heart thumps against her ribs.

“What’s with the security detail, Danvers?” the man that Alex had been talking to asks, waving a dismissive hand in Maggie’s direction. His voice isn’t contemptuous. Not exactly. “Your bodyguard budget running low?”

“She’s with me.” is all Alex replies, waving a dismissive hand in Maggie’s general direction, although her eyes are still fixated on the man she’s talking to.

“You keep strange company.” the man says, and Maggie can see Alex go rigid then, like she hears implications in the words that Maggie is pretty sure weren’t meant to be there.

“None of your business.” Alex snaps out, and then holds the weapon in her hands out. It looks like some futuristic handheld cannon. “Now, do we have a deal or not?”

“Not as long as it keeps going on the fritz like this.” the man says, shaking his head.

“I told you, it needs a new power supply.” Alex replies. Her tone sounds almost impatient. “Did you really think you were going to put in AA batteries into a blaster from another galaxy, and it would just work?”

“Can. you. design. the. power. supply. or. not.” the man grunts out, as if this is not the first time they’ve had this discussion.

“I’ve got a prototype I’m testing out right now.” Alex says. “If it checks out, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I get the first unit for free to test.” he says, and folds his arms when Alex opens her mouth to argue. “That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

Alex looks like she’s going to push the matter, and then her head tilts infinitesimally in Maggie’s direction.

“Fine.” Alex says. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I need to take my 10am call.”

She inclines her head towards Maggie as she says this, the clearest of dismissals.

The man only grins, though, having got what he wants. He leaves with his group, fist-bumping one another, and Alex watches them like a hawk until they get into their car and have drive off, before she turns to Maggie.

“Detective Sawyer.” she says in greeting, and then, “Business meetings are always so tedious.” as if that explains everything.

“I wouldn’t know.” Maggie retorts. “I’m assuming you’re _not_ , in fact, calling to report a noisy party in a warehouse?”

Alex smiles briefly, and then takes out at phone from her pocket.

“Pinged yours.” she says, wiggling the phone in her hands. “Figured if I put out a distress call once you were in the location, you’d been the one they’d assign to it.”

“Clever.” Maggie says, and then adds on quickly, because Alex starts looking a little pleased with herself, “But creepy.”

Alex puts her hands up, as if in placation. The expression on her face looks adorably close to sheepish, and _damn_ , maybe Maggie shouldn’t be thinking of adjectives like that in relation to the woman in front of her, who could be criminally convicted with ease in about ten different states.

“I had to find some way to contact you, and you weren’t answering my calls.” Alex says. She sounds the slightest bit apologetic, although Maggie knows that could very well be an act put on for the benefit of mollifying her. “I need to talk to you.”

“And what makes you think I’m willing to talk?” Maggie asks. “You lure me to an unknown location, parade around illegal weapons right in front of me, and you want to _talk_?”

“I have no weapons on me right now.” Alex protests, waving her hands in the air.

“So, hidden henchmen?” Maggie asks, eyebrows raising. Her preliminary scan hadn’t shown any hidden assailants, but one encounter has been enough to teach her that NCPD technology isn’t advanced enough to root out the crowd that Alex runs with.

Alex shakes her head.

“No henchmen.” she says. “No weapons. No threats.”

Maggie thinks it over for a moment.

“Fine.” she says.

She rushes at Alex before the other woman can do more than nod in response, grabbing her arms and pinning her front against one of the pillars of the warehouse.

“This is unnecessary, detective.” Alex says, and she almost sounds bored, although her body is thrashing in every direction, trying to break free of Maggie’s hold.

“You’re under arrest-” Maggie begins, ignoring her, and trying to maneuver an NCPD-issue ziptie around arms that are scrabbling for any purchase they can get on her own body.

She gets as far as maneuvering the ziptie around Alex’s wrists, before the other woman fairly explodes out of her hold. Maggie is aware of a sharp jab against her right arm, and then, in the blink of an eye, Alex has flipped their positions around, so that Maggie feels own her back hit the wall.

“Not a threat, huh?” Maggie asks, and she kind of wants to smile, because Alex is holding her in place against the wall with an iron grip on her shoulders, but she also looks lost, as if unsure of what to do next.

“I was _talking_ about the fact that I had no weapons.” Alex says, and she sounds only the slightest bit breathy, even though Maggie knows that she herself had been giving it her all in the struggle. “I called you here to talk, detective, not to fight.”

“Then let go.” Maggie says.

She blinks when Alex does exactly that, hands leaving Maggie shoulders immediately, as if acting of their own volition. _Huh._

“That’s one hell of a negotiation tactic.” she comments, rubbing her shoulders where Alex’s grip had been.

“Like I said, I called you here to talk to you.” Alex grits out. “ _Not_ to turn myself in.”

“Worth a shot.” Maggie says, shrugging. Despite the circumstance, she finds herself grinning. It must be the adrenaline rush, she thinks, because she should be angry, should be chagrined, that Alex has defeated her so easily again.

“Let me know if you give classes, by the way.” she says, still breathing hard from the sudden exertion.

She looks back at Alex when no reply is forthcoming, and realizes that Alex is staring at her, frowning.

“What?” Maggie asks self-consciously. Her hair is askew, she knows, and she doesn’t even want to know the state of disarray that her clothes are in, but that’s no reason to be looking at her like that.

Alex visibly swallows, opens her mouth, and then looks away.

“I expected you to be angry.” she says, voice barely audible.

She looks around, legs shifting slightly in impractical heels, and Maggie doesn’t really know why, but she suddenly wonders if anyone had ever really just joked around with Alex before. She wonders what kind of a life Alex must have had, what kind of childhood, that makes her look this confused over some gentle ribbing.

And then it’s Maggie who has to look away, and shake her head, because that’s a dangerous line of thought to be taking, about a known criminal with whom she is locked in, at best, a tenuous detente.

“Listen.” she begins, because Alex is still looking away. “I’m a detective. I had to try to arrest you, because that’s my job. And you stopped me, because self-preservation is _your_ job. Let’s leave it at that.”

Alex takes a deep breath, and she doesn’t really look convinced, but at least she’s meeting Maggie’s eyes again.

“What did you want to talk about?” Maggie asks, in the most professional tone she can muster at the moment, because she figures that the sooner she steers this ship back into less-fraught waters, the better for both of them.

“One of my guys has gone missing” Alex says, as calmly if they were discussing the weather. “I think one of my buyers got a hold of him.”

Maggie hears herself draw a sharp breath, sees Alex’s eyes grow defiant in response.

“I need to track him down.” Alex says, the muscles of her jaw working. She stares directly into Maggie’s eyes as she says this, as if to prove a point by not looking away. “I could use your help.”

“All your crew on vacation?” Maggie asks. She thinks she can be forgiven for sounding a little sarcastic.

“My guys tend to shoot first and ask questions later.” Alex says. “I need Aran back alive.”

“Details?” Maggie asks, filing the name away in her head.

Alex rattles off the identification details, and it’s the age that makes Maggie bite back a curse.

“Seventeen years old?” she snaps out. “What the hell, Alex?”

“He grew up in the business, long before I got into it.” Alex says, as if that’s an adequate explanation. Her arms fold around her body, as if to put a shield between herself and Maggie’s wrath, but her eyes haven’t left Maggie’s, and the defiance in them hasn’t faded.

Maggie can feel her lips pursuing, and she has to take a deep breath, and look away from Alex, before speaking again.

“When are you going to realize your profession hurts people?” she asks, unable to quite keep the judgment out of her tone.

“I didn’t create this situation.” Alex says, her voice echoing hollowly in the warehouse.

 _You just aid and abet it,_ Maggie thinks, but she keeps her mouth shut, because a kid’s life is in danger, and regardless of her feelings about Alex’s line of work, her own demands that she try to save him.

“Any leads?” she asks.

“Went out with some friends last night.” Alex replies. “They said he left them around 1am, but he didn’t call in this morning like he’s supposed to.”

Maggie sighs.

“List of the friends?” she asks, and Alex hands over a piece of paper like she’d been expecting to be asked that.

“I’ve already questioned them.” she says. “Their stories check out.”

“Doesn’t hurt to do a second pass.” Maggie says, scanning the two names on the list. She recognizes one of them;  a girl with the same name had been brought in a couple months ago on a drunk and disorderly charge. “Any lead on the buyers?”

“Nothing specific.” Alex says, shaking her head. “Last buyer was a Braxian, and a Cyvillain before that, but Aran only deals with small time customers, and they paid up-front, so I don’t see how money could have played a role.”

Maggie nods noncommittally, mentally noting both the information, and the fact that the alien names roll off of Alex’s tongue casually, as if she’s used to rattling off names of species that most of the world doesn’t even know exist.

“I might know a way to track down a lead.” she says, an idea growing in her head.

“We need to work fast, detective.” Alex says, and there’s something like muted panic in her voice. “I can’t ...he could be hurt.”

Maggie holds in the obvious retort, and says instead, in a voice that she hopes is placating, “I’ll do my best.”

Before she can say further, her pager goes off. She checks in, and holds in a groan when she see Captain Rivera’s ID pop up.

“I need to get back to the station.” she says. “I’ll call up the lead on the way there.”

Alex looks like she’s ready to argue, but Maggie raises her eyebrows, and she relents.

“Thank you.” she says instead, breathing out a deep sigh. “ _Thank you._ ”

Maggie wants to respond, but any reciprocation she can come up with feels false, so she simply turns around and walks back to her bike, wondering if doing the right thing should feel this wrong and complicated.

 

\---

 

“Maggie.” M’gann pronounces her name over the phone like a statement, rather than like a greeting, when Maggie dismounts from her bike and calls her, while she waits for security to scan her into the police station.

“Calling to confirm for Thursday night, Maggie? Thank you for covering for Darla, by the way.”

“No problem.” Maggie says, as the security guy waves her through. She flashes him a thumbs-up, before directing her attention back to the call. “Let’s see if you’ll still be thanking me, after seeing my rusty bartending skills in action.”

She had part-timed at some bars around her campus while in college, so when Darla had needed an emergency night off, she had offered to fill in. Who says breakups couldn’t be amiable, even with aliens who had literally sucked a language out of your mouth?

“But I was calling to see if you could help me with something.” Maggie continues, when M’gann stays silent over the phone.

“Another alien that needs tracking down?” M’gann doesn’t sound surprised. M’gann never sounds surprised, Maggie has found out.

“Maybe.” she says. “I have reason to think they might have kidnapped someone.”

She rattles off the details of the missing teen, and waits on tenterhooks, as silence ensues from the other side of the phone. She knows - and to be honest, understands - M’gann’s reticence regarding the alien community, and that her being a cop doesn’t exactly simplify matters, but she has to _try_.

“I’ll keep an eye out.” M’gann says, eventually, and Maggie breathes out air that she hadn’t been aware of holding in.

“Thanks, M’gann.” she says. “I owe you big.”

“Thank me by showing up on time tomorrow.” M’gann retorts, and there is a hint of challenge in her voice, but amusement also, as if she knows exactly how up to her neck Maggie feels in all this.

Maggie is about to answer in kind, when she rounds the hallway to the Science Division, and sees an unusual flurry of activity around the office.

“I gotta go, M’gann.” she says, and distractedly registers M’gann voicing a goodbye and hanging up, as she all but runs towards the commotion.

“What’s going on?” she asks the first officer coming out the door, and then does a double-take, because it’s not anyone familiar to her, and that black uniform is definitely not NCPD regulation issue.

“Out of the way, ma’am.” the man she had addressed says. His tone is polite, but the way he flicks his badge - which reads F.B.I - at her while continuing to move past her, is nothing less than dismissive.

Maggie maneuvers in front of him, and stays rooted to there, planting her hands on her hips, although the man in front of her has at least a foot on her.

“Those are my files.” she says, pointing at the stack he’s carrying. She can see her signature scrawled on one of the requisition forms sticking out. “Where are you going with my stuff?”

“This is FBI evidence.” he says, trying to sidestep her. She moves sideways to block him again, sees him hesitate and look back.

“Sawyer.” a weary voice states, and Captain Rivera steps out of the door. “These agents have been assigned to work the Sinclair trafficking case.”

The captain doesn’t seems particularly happy about it either, Maggie can see, although her face expresses more fatigue than annoyance

“With all due respect, captain,” Maggie replies, “They could have asked me before raiding my desk.”

Before the captain can respond, the second agent that had been following close behind the one carrying Maggie’s files intercedes.

“We had to secure the evidence as soon as possible.” she says. “We’re just following protocol, ma’am.”

At least this one’s tone isn’t condescending, but her vacantly polite smile is something Maggie recognizes; she’s mastered one herself, for when she runs into the more boisterous senior officers at work, and has to make small talk with them.

“Susan Vasquez.” the agent says, holding out a hand. “FBI.”

Maggie doesn’t take it.

“Your organization have ignored my requests for help for the past six months.” she says, matching the other woman’s pleasant tone. Behind Vasquez, she can see the captain take a sharp breath, like she _knows_ that Maggie is moments away from exploding, “ _Now_ you want to intervene?”

“We see a case that needs our attention now, and we’re following up on it.” Vasquez replies, “We’re doing our job, detective.”

“By taking over mine.” Maggie says, but she can see that she might as well have stomped her feet and thrown a tantrum, for all the effect it’s having on the agents in front of her.

Maggie comes to a decision. She can feel the captain’s eyes on her back, as she digs into her pocket and fishes out a card, holding it out towards Vasquez.

“My number.” she says briefly, pointing at the card. “I’m the one who was handling that case. If you get stuck...I could help.”

That gets her another polite smile.

“We’ll be in touch.” Vasquez says. She motions towards the exit expectantly, and this time Maggie has no choice but to step aside, as they leave with all the evidence that months of running around had to show for.

 _Be in touch, huh?_ Maggie watches them disappear through the exit, and somehow, she doubts it.

“If you’re going to blow up,” the captain’s voice comes from behind her, “At least wait until I go on break.”

Maggie turns, and then blinks at the cup of coffee held out towards her.

“Bit late to be getting your caffeine rush.” she comments, taking the proffered cup and tapping it against the captain’s own in a mock toast.

“Well, it’s too early for the alcohol.” the captain mutters, making an expression that finishes that sentence.

She leads the way to Maggie’s desk as she speaks, which seems to be in the state of perfect disrepair that Maggie had left it in on her last shift.

Well, not quite, Maggie realizes, after a casual sifting through the paperwork deposited all over the desk. Everything involving the Sinclair case seems to have been lifted out with surgical precision, along with the folder in her cabinet containing all the ancillary evidence.

“Efficient.” she allows. Not a word she had ever expected to use in relation to a fed.

The captain still seems to be watching her carefully, for signs of anger. Instead, Maggie finds herself curiously detached. The case had always been a lose-lose situation; if she got somewhere, she had been bound to the lose it to the FBI, and if she hadn’t got anywhere, it would have been the first fail on her record.

“I never expected to be allowed to go all the way through with that case, Captain, to be honest.”

She frowns at the mess on her desk, as what’s really bothering her makes itself heard amongst the noise in her head. “Why are they in such a hurry now, though? They’ve been dawdling over this for six months, and now they’re blazing with all guns ahead.”

The captain seems to hesitate, and take another gulp of her coffee, before responding to that mostly rhetorical question.

“Ever heard of the DEO, Sawyer?”

Maggie stares. “The what who now?”

The captain studies her, then looks back at the door the agents had exited through, before shaking her head.

“Nevermind. Just some unfounded rumour. Never had any proof of it.”

“Proof of what?”

“How did the meeting with Cat Grant go?” the captain asks her abruptly.

Maggie raises her eyebrows.

“You’re distracting me.” she points out. “But it went well. At the least, I can guarantee that you won’t be getting a call from their legal department anytime soon.”

“That’ll be a nice change.” the captain says, making a face, and Maggie remembers that CatCo had indeed threatened them with a court order before, on some case regarding some injunction or other.

“She’s making me go visit their new CEO, too.” she says. “I thought I might as well get that over with today too, but I have to follow up on some leads before that.”

The captain nods.

“Do you have time to submit a report on the how the Centaurian cartel investigation is coming along?” she asks, “I’ll need to put an update on it into the budgeting report.”

“Can I give it in at the end of the shift?” Maggie asks, trying not to let on the fact that she hasn’t even started collating the paperwork on that. “I need to go question some suspects about a missing kid. Possible alien involvement.”

Judging by the slightly pitying smile on the captain’s face, the subterfuge isn’t working.

“Go ahead.” she waves a hand in Maggie’s direction, before moving back towards her office. “But I want that report in by 11pm.”

Maggie only grumbles in assent, burying her face in her coffee mug again.

 

\---

 

Maggie interviews two of her usual CIs without getting anywhere, the awareness hanging over her like a sword, that the likelihood of the safe return of the boy is ticking away with the clock.

The third one runs as soon as she gets within 10 metres of him.

Groaning, Maggie gives chase. She knows this guy well. An alien from some planet whose name she can’t even pronounce, with a couple of priors for public intoxication and small-time substance abuse, but nothing that warrants him running away from her on sight.

She catches up to him by the end of the block, jumping and catching him in a hold that brings them both down to the ground.

“What the hell, Brian?” she demands, getting up and dragging him up with her. “What have you got up to this time?”

“Nothing.” he protests, scrabbling away from her.

Maggie sighs.

“So you were running away from me for no reason.” she states.

He gulps, looking from side to side as if looking for the best escape route.

“Don’t even think about it.” Maggie warns him.

“I was going to pay them back!” he cries out, before she can do more than step forward in his direction. “But they sent out some guys after me to collect, and I punched one of them, and they said they could get me arrested and deported for that!”

Before Maggie can even begin to process all that, a ping sounds near her waist. She glances down cursorily at the pager attached there, before turning back to Brian.

“What have I told you about staying away from loan sharks?” she demands, “They’ll eat you alive if they don’t get your money, Brian.”

He mumbles something about _not intended to_ and _didn’t know_ , and Maggie feels both her exasperation and worry mounting.

“You need to get out of this.” she begins, and then grits her teeth at being interrupted _again_ , when her phone chooses that moment to vibrate in her pocket.

She flips it out while keeping an eye on Brian, and holds it up to see who’s calling. Unlisted number. Maggie sighs and flicks her thumb to accept the call.

“Not now, honey.” she grinds out, by way of greeting. “I’m _working_.”

There’s a pause, and then Alex’s voice replies, sounding confused. “I’m not your honey.”

Maggie rolls her eyes.

“Bad joke.” she says, flicking an arm towards Brian to indicate him to come towards her. “Listen, man, I don’t want to be hauling you to the station on some public violence or substance abuse charge anymore than you. So how about you and I have a talk, and we’ll call this even?”

“Did I call at a bad time?” Alex interjects over the phone, and she actually sounds amused. Maggie briefly considers flinging the phone away.

“What do you need?” she asks.

“Checking up to see if you’ve got any leads.” Alex replies.

“I’m working on it.” Maggie replies, stifling the initial urge to snap out an _I know_. “This takes time.”

“We don’t _have_ time-” Alex starts, sounding mutinous, but Maggie intercepts her.

“Listen.” she cuts in firmly. “Meet me at the address I text you in 4 hours. I think I might have got you a solid lead by then.”

“Why four hours from now?” Alex asks immediately. “Why not sooner? Why not later? Is there something important-”

“ _Just meet me there._ ” Maggie sighs, and ends the call before Alex can reply .

She turns her attention back to Brian. He backs away immediately when she puts her hands on her hips.

“I just need to ask you a few questions.” she says. “I’m tracking someone down.”

She asks him the same list of questions she had given the other two, and gets the same result. Nothing.

“I’m an accountant.” Brian says eventually, looking rather overwhelmed at the barrage of questions she’s thrown at him, “I’ve never held a gun in my life. I have no idea who’d be into buying that kind of stuff.”

“But you knew where to find loan sharks?” Maggie retorts, and then relents when he backs away from her again.

“Fine.” she says. Looks like she’ll have to fall back on M’gann after all.

Brian hesitates, looking like a deer in headlights.

“You’re letting me off?” he ventures, a few minutes.

Maggie scowls.

“Just _go_.” she says.

She watches with exasperation as he walks away hurriedly, and then looks down at the page that had come in earlier.

_James Olsen. 5pm._

“Perfect.” Maggie mutters, “Just what this day needed to get better.”

 

\---

 

James Olsen does actually meet Maggie at CatCo, in the penthouse office he seems to work out of, although Maggie can see signs all around the room, that speak of it having been Cat Grant’s domain mere days ago.

Maggie made sure to read up on him online before going in - a quick five minute search had showed her, among other things, that he has his own freaking _Wikipedia_ page - and she’s a little surprised at the down-to-earth guy who grabs her hand in a slightly-more-enthusiastic-than-comfortable handshake.

Olsen asks her the usual questions about herself, before he touches on the arrest itself. The first few inquiries are a rehash of what has already been made public. Maggie clams up, though, when he gets to the part she’d played in the arrest, and her reasons for working the case.

“The salient details are in the press release the NCPD sent out.” she tells him, because damned if she’s going to let her mouth run loose here, and risk the captain’s wrath.

Olsen’s mouth quirks slightly, as if he’d been expecting that.

“No personal impact statement, then?” he asks.

“Pass.” Maggie deadpans, and Olsen actually laughs out loud, as if in delight, although Maggie isn’t sure if he’s just faking it to get into her good books.

“I had to try.” he says, with a shoulder roll. The shirt stretches against his powerful muscles when he does that, and Maggie remembers from her cheatsheet that this guy had been a correspondent in Afghanistan, and then in Egypt during the Arab Spring. She idly considers what might have made him give up his camera, and take up a desk job. “Word on the street is that you’re sympathetic to the plight of our non-human neighbours.”

“They’re part of the community.” Maggie says, shrugging. God, she’s tired of people singling this out as something worthy of distinction.

“Not if Luthor’s proposed laws have anything to say about it.” James comments, and then he’s staring up at her, eyes curious. “Do you read our publication?”

“A bit, here and there.” Maggie answers. She keeps up with the city’s news as a matter of doing due diligence in her line of work, but it hasn’t led her in CatCo Magazine’s direction all that often, save for a few surprisingly hard-hitting articles that stick out in her mind.

“ _How President-Elect Luthor is Gaslighting America.”_ she says out loud, remembering one of them, “Click-baity title, but solid analysis.”

“I’ll take the good with the bad.” James says good-naturedly. “I was the lead on that article, actually.”

“So this is your idea, then?” Maggie asks. “This whole...spotlight on aliens thing?”

James nods.

“It feels..needed.” he says. “And with Cat handing over the reins, it felt like the right time to take the plunge and go ahead with the project.”

“Then why is Cat Grant babysitting you?” Maggie asks bluntly. “Why did I have to go through her to get to you?”

“I was under the impression that I was the one conducting the interview, detective.” Olsen says, his voice still pleasantly calm, and ok, maybe Maggie had underestimated this guy.

“Tough.” she responds, determined not to be too impressed by a member of the _press_ , of all things. “This is a two-way street.”

She bites her tongue second later, aware that this is exactly the sort of thing that gets the NCPD in hot water with the press, but Olsen only grins.

“She’s just here to be a ...springboard, as it were.” he says, and Maggie can tell that he’s choosing his words carefully. “The media has been accused, in the past, of playing coy with Luthor’s over-the-top declarations of xenophobia, and some of the top brass at CatCo are still loathe to take ...a firmer stance.”

Maggie squints, trying to read between all the buzzwords.

“Let’s just say not everyone on the board is on- _board_ with my vision for the magazine.” Olsen finishes, flashing another blinding smile at her.

Suddenly, Maggie realizes two things: 1. James Olsen makes _terrible_ puns, and 2) No wonder Cat Grant had been so adamant about making it public from the start that he had her support; she’d wanted to make sure her handpicked successor wasn’t diving off the deep end, only to drown.

“That was _awful.”_ she says, unable to stop smiling just a little, although he’s the press and she’s a cop, and never the twain should laugh together over bad puns.

He shoots her a playfully remorseful look, ruining it with a wink, before leaning back in his chair. Maggie’s eye is automatically drawn to the photograph framed on the wall behind it, of a caped figure silhouetted against a morning sky.

“That’s the one that nabbed you the Pulitzer, right?” she asks, pointing at it.

Olsen turns around and nods, and he looks like he’s about to say something, but Maggie’s attention is already moving upwards, snagged by another photo, this one a rare closeup. It’s another brilliantly colored shot, against a bright blue sky, but this time of of a blond woman, her red cape fluttering behind her. The subject is smiling, her eyes crinkled as if in utmost happiness.

Suddenly, Maggie feels something like sadness, or grief, tugging at her heart.

“I miss her.” she finds herself saying, even though she knows that it’s ridiculous to feel this way over someone you’ve never met.

Olsen is watching her face now, as she studies that picture.

“I miss Supergirl too.” he says, and Maggie hears a curious inflection in his voice, like he means something slightly different from what she means. “Did you ever meet her?”

Maggie shakes her head. Even though she had been assigned to several of the same crime scenes Supergirl tended to show up at, being the Science Division, Supergirl had usually left the area before the cops even made it there, which Maggie thinks had been part of her whole superspeed and flying deal.

“It’s just-” she pauses, trying to corral thoughts to get out what she means, “The city isn’t the same without her, you know? Two years without her, and I feel like we’re _still_ mourning.”

Three years ago, a hero had made National City her home. For a year, it hadn’t been unusual to be going about your day, and look up to see a flash of red and blue fly past. It had given the downtrodden people of an entire city a sense of wonder: that even in their mundane lives, something this extraordinary could exist. Maggie could testify to that feeling herself, even though she thought she’d become immune to it, after all her time in Star City and Gotham.

There had been something different about Supergirl, though, and about National City. Something bright, and uncomplicated, and shining, that made you want to believe in things that you _knew_ were impossible.

For a brief time, National City had had a superhero. For a brief time, National City had hope.

Then Supergirl had died, and hope, it seemed, had died with her.

“There’ll always be heroes.” Olsen says, pulling Maggie out of her reverie, and his voice is soft, understanding. “They may not wear capes, but they’re still out there.”

Maggie has to admit her heart sits a little lighter at his voice, sounding so sure and firm.

“And you’re one of them, I suppose.” she ribs, surprised by the wink he shoots her way in response.

“My girlfriend is the hero in our relationship, I’m afraid.” he chuckles.

Maggie smiles at the obvious love in his voice when he says that, although a part of her realizes that he’s talking about his own personal life in order to put her at ease, and to get past her guards.

Then she remembers Emily, her own girlfriend who still seems to be avoiding her, and she can feel her face closing up.

“Hey.” James Olsen says softly, hands reaching out as it to pat her, and then hesitating. Maggie can tell that he thinks she must still be upset about Supergirl. “It’s gonna be fine. We...the city...is gonna be fine.”

Maggie laughs, because she doesn’t think it’s going to be fine, not this time, but it’s also not Olsen’s problem.

“Listen, do you need anything else?” she asks, “I’m going to be late for my shift.”

“The press release is all we need for the first installment, since you won’t be giving a personal impact statement.” Olsen replies, standing up and holding out his hand. “We’ll send you a courtesy copy of the issue, of course.”

“I suppose NCPD won’t be able to get a look at the first article before it goes out?” Maggie asks, but Olsen is shaking her head before she even gets the whole sentence out.

“The press doesn’t wait on the NCPD to publish, Maggie.” he says, and Maggie thinks maybe she should be mad at how he uses her name so familiarly, when she has only just met him, but she gets the feeling that he’s just being _nice._

“Have a good day, _James_.” she says in response, shaking his outstretched hand firmly, and his resulting smile could light up a night sky.

 

\---

 

“A Ducati.” Maggie says, two hours later, and she can’t keep the admiration out of her voice for the motorcycle that Alex had pulled up in. It’s dented and scratched and banged up all over, but the engine sounds smooth and powerful. “Nice.”

She would say Alex is full of surprises, but that would imply that Maggie had ever expected her to be predictable in the first place.

Alex shrugs in reply to her words, and turns away to hang the helmet against the handlebars, almost as if she’s embarrassed at Maggie’s observation.

“This way.” Maggie says shortly, when Alex turns back, guiding her away from the intersection, and towards the back roads where M’gann’s bar is located.

“So, the lead?” Alex asks without preamble, walking a few steps ahead of Maggie, always impatient, always in a hurry to be somewhere.

“Still working on it.” Maggie says, deliberately controlling her own pace, so so that Alex is forced to fall back and match it.

Alex looks disappointed.

“You said you’ll have something for me by now.” she says.

Maggie resists the urge to feel guilty at the disappointment in her tone, or to feel angry about feeling guilty.

“It hasn’t struck the hour yet, Danvers.” she replies. “I’ve still got time to make good on my word.”

She hasn’t given any particular inflection to the surname, but Alex grimaces nevertheless.

“I had hoped you might have missed that.” she says, and Maggie grins.

“Not a chance.” she says, and then tests the full name out loud. “Alexandra Danvers.”

“It won’t do you any good.” Alex replies. “My records were wiped out of the system a long time ago.”

Maggie wants to ask more questions, wants to push to see what kind of past Alex has led that would warrant access to that kind of invisibility, but she can already sees the walls going up around Alex, as Alex turns away from her gaze.

“Hey, Danvers.” she says instead, and when Alex still doesn’t turn towards her, “Did you know you were going 45 in a 40 zone back there?”

Alex turns to her then, with a face like “really?”, but there’s also relief underneath it, and Maggie can feel her own body relaxing in response.

“I should give you a ticket.” she says.

“You’ll have to get me into a court first.” Alex quips, and Maggie shrugs.

“I have my ways.” she murmurs, and then grabs at Alex’s hand to slow her down, as they near the alleyway behind which the secret entrance to M’gann’s bar lies.

“I’ll need you to wait here.”

“No way.” Alex is looking with furrowed brows at Maggie’s hand around her arm, and her voice is downright mulish when she continues. “This place looks seedy.”

“Just because it’s not the clean streets and suburbs you’re used to?” Maggie retorts, and Alex swallows and looks away, lips pursing. “Decent people live everywhere, Danvers.”

Her aunt had lived in an area that hadn’t looked much different from these streets.

“You’re just going to have to trust me.” Maggie says, moving closer to Alex, close enough to see the flecks of light dancing in her eyes, as they flutter closed for a moment, before she nods.

“I’ll wait.” Alex says, taking the same weapon out of her jacket pocket, that Maggie had seen her handling when they first met. “Call me if you need me?”

Maggie nods without really registering the question, and moves into the alleyway.

She whispers the secret code - it’s “Neverland” this time -  and is admitted into the sound of “Smooth Criminal” playing, which, Maggie thinks wryly, could not be more inapt.

M’gann is serving a couple of Andromedans at the counter when Maggie walks towards her, pouring out some drink for them that keeps coiling back into the bottle, in defiance of every axiom of physics that Maggie has ever heard of.

“Having fun, I see.” she comments, climbing onto a stool just as M’gann finally wrestles the drink into two glasses.

“Almost as much as fun as you’ll be having tomorrow night.” M’gann retorts easily. “This planet’s gravity is so weak.”

“Says the Martian?” Maggie asks, but M’gann only shrugs.

“I’ve lived all over the galaxy.” she says. “I didn’t find it appealing to spend too much time on my home planet.”

Maggie feels the curiosity gnawing at her, as it always does when her friend drops tidbits like this about her past life. M’gann, however, doesn’t expand on it, as usual, and Maggie doesn’t think they’re good enough friends to press the issue.

“I’ll take the next night after tomorrow, too, if you’ve got something good for me.” she says.

“Two Braxians dragged a human in here today.” M'gann says without preamble, pouring a beer out for Maggie while she talks. “He’s the human you’re looking for. You owe me _two_ more nights for that, Maggie.”

Maggie doesn’t bother asking how M’gann sounds so sure. In her estimation, if M’gann says something is so, it tends to be so.

“Fine.” she says, slapping a twenty on the bar for the drink, and waving away the change. “Two nights. Did they say anything useful while they were here?”

“I think they were planning to use him as blackmail to get access to more weapons.” M’gann replies. “Said something about hiding him out in the docks. I don’t think they’d figured out where exactly, yet, though.”

“Thanks, M’gann.” Maggie says, rubbing her forehead and wondering how to break _that_ bit of news to Alex.

“One of those guys was packing a somatic disruptor.” M’gann adds. “What have you gotten yourself into, Maggie?”

Maggie sighs, and gulps down the drink. She doesn’t even know what a somatic disruptor does, although she wagers Alex could write a treatise on it.

“I honestly wish I knew.” she tells M’gann in reply, before she steps away and walks out of the doors, past the alleyway, to where Alex is waiting by their bikes, hair shining in the faint illumination of the lights above.

“Found a lead.” Maggie says, and she knows from the way Alex frowns slightly, that her own voice is tighter than usual, frustration coiled up in it with self-reproach. It’s easy to forget, when talking to Alex, that she’s a criminal who deals in devices that could bring about devastating destruction in the wrong hands. Too easy.

Alex doesn’t comment on her tone, though.

“Where are we headed?” is all she asks.

"Nowhere soon.” Maggie responds. “I’ve got a lead, but I’ll need time to narrow down the location.”

“This is your big lead?” Alex asks in disbelief, “This is what you had me wait this long for, while Aran could be dead by now for all we know?”

“He’ll be _fine_.” Maggie raises a placating hand. “It looks like a regulation ransom situation, except their goal is your weapons, not money. The worst they’ll do is rough your boy up a little.”

Alex’s hands are balling themselves up into fists.

“So you want us to twiddle our thumbs while they could be doing god knows what to him.”

“Unless you’ve got a GPS ping on your boy too, we’re going to need more information before we can make the next move.” Maggie retorts. “Let me do some leg work, and call me if they make any kind of contact with you.”

“And if something happens to him before we track him down?” Alex asks, all the warmth in her voice now disappeared.

Maggie steps closer to Alex, until she can almost feel, rather than see, Alex’s chest rising and falling with the strength of emotions that she’s struggling to keep out of her voice. In contrast, Maggie feels that a curious calm has come over herself.

“Then you’re going to need to re-evaluate whether this is the kind of business you want to be in, if you expect people to play by the books, and for no one to get hurt.” she says.

Alex swallows - she does that a lot, Maggie notices - and breaks their locked gaze.

“He’s being held somewhere near the docks.” Maggie says, in an attempt at extending an olive branch. “It’s going to take me some legwork to figure out where, exactly.”

Alex nods, still not looking at her, and Maggie can see her jaw working, like she’s trying to get words out, but nothing results.

“Fair warning, they’re Braxian, and apparently one of the guys is packing a somatic disruptor.” Maggie frowns, her tongue awkwardly working around the syllables. “Any idea what that is?”

Alex lets out an outraged huff at that. “Now I know who to look for. I _sold_ that to him. At a discount, too, because he said he needed it for his protection. Fucking _asshole_.”

Maggie sighs. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be comfortable with Alex just casually tossing around details of her...profession like this.

“So, you do know what is does?” she asks.

“Deals localized low-impact tissue damage.” Alex answers, and Maggie blinks because all of those words make sense alone, but put together, they do not. “Painful, but less lethal than a gun, basically.”

Maggie nods.

“Well, at least you can recognize him on sight.” she offers, because what Alex wants to do with her life isn’t Maggie’s business, it _can’t_ be. What matters here is saving a kid whose life is in danger.

Alex is quiet, though, as Maggie leads the way out of the alley. In hindsight, Maggie should have been more concerned about that, but she finds herself preoccupied with the fact that Captain Rivera is expecting her report on the cartel case in two hours, and she hasn’t even started on it, between tracking down Alex’s boy and meeting with Grant and Olsen.

She’s still mulling over that though when they arrive at their respective bikes, where she takes out her ticket book, and start writing one out to Alex’s.

“For your speeding when you arrived.” she informs Alex.

“You know I’ll never pay these.” Alex says, watching her fill out the chit.

Maggie’s response is to write another one out for illegal parking.

“There were no designated spots.” Alex protests. “And you parked yours right next to mine.”

Maggie simply sticks the tickets to Alex’s bike, and then walks over to her own.

She revs up the engine, and maneuvers the bike out of the alley onto the main road. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Alex watching her, instead of mounting her own Ducati.

Maggie laughs quietly to herself, though she knows that Alex can’t hear her at this distance, and speeds up.

Ok, maybe it’s a little hysterical. God, she really hopes this doesn’t end up biting her in the ass.

 

\---

 

“11.05.” the captain comments, pointedly looking over at the clock opposite her desk, which Maggie has to turn around to look at.

“You literally have a watch on your wrist.” she informs the captain mildly, turning back to face her. “I feel like you just do that to show off all your awards.”

They’re hung in a half-circle around the clock, medals of valor and meritorious service and heroism, and Maggie sometimes wonders if the Captain purposely hangs them up there so that no asshole can come into her office and accuse her of being promoted simply to prove a point.

“More for dramatic effect.” the captain allows, and then holds a hand out expectantly. Maggie gives her the paperwork on her preliminary findings on the Centaurian drug cartel case.

“Nothing much to talk about yet, I’m afraid,” she says, “We’re still trying to figure out what constitutes as drugs for Centaurians, and whether U.S substance abuse laws cover it, and until the lab comes back to us with a clear answer on the chemical makeup of the drugs themselves, we can’t really move ahead with charging anyone.”

The captain acknowledges that with a nod, although her expression remains noncommittal.

“Any luck on that missing kid you were tracking down?” she asks, as she rifles through Maggie’s report. “I don’t remember that case passing by my desk. Did someone from the night shift pass it down to you?”

Maggie swallows.

“It was more a spur of the moment case.” she replies, aware of her heart beating very fast all of a sudden. It’s an omission, she tells herself, not a lie. “I’ll get the paperwork in for it tomorrow.”

The captain looks up.

“I’m not chastising you, Sawyer.” she says mildly, “With your closing numbers, I don’t really care if you miss paperwork by a day or two. I just like being in on the loop.”

She’s staring directly at Maggie as she says this, so Maggie forces herself not to swallow again, or fidget. _Omission, not lie. Omission, not lie._

“I’m working on it.” she says, and the captain nods.

“Let me know when the lab results for the cartel case come in.” she says, before waving Maggie out of her office.

Maggie flees like there are hellhounds at her feet. It seems fitting.

 

\---

 

Maggie can hear the TV on in her apartment, when she gets home from her shift that night, after two futile hours of searching the port for specifics as to the kidnappers’ locations.

She stands in front of the locked door for a few seconds, and her hands tremble against the key, just a little, as she turns the lock and opens the door, to see the woman seated on the sofa inside.

It is a sight she has come home to for years now. Yet, this time, Maggie stands in the doorway for minutes, drinking it in, because there seems to be a finality to it that she has never felt before, not even after their most heated arguments.

“Two years ago, Supergirl laid waste to our city in her rampage. We cannot let anyone do that to us again.” Lex Luthor is saying on the television screen. Even distracted as she is, Maggie blinks at how much this man looks like an Aryan poster child, and isn’t surprised that his campaign had been the juggernaut that turned the tide of American politics against off-worlders so decisively.

The woman turns the TV off in the middle of Luthor’s tirade, with a noise of annoyance, and gets up to face Maggie.

“You might as well come in.” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s your apartment, after all.”

Maggie swallows the _yours too_ , and moves forward, locking the door behind her.

“Emily.” she breathes out, looking into the woman whose face she had tried all day to forget, whose name that she had tried all day to keep out of her mind.

“You’re late.” Emily says. Her words sound final in a way that Maggie is used to hearing by now, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. “Again.”

Maggie resists the urge to let out a weary sigh.

“I was working that night.” she says, referring to the missed night that had started all this. “I really was. I wasn’t-”

She catches herself, but it’s too late, because Emily is already remembering, and Maggie can see her eyes harden.

Emily shakes her head, though.

“This isn’t about _that_.” she says. “I said we were going to move past that, and I meant it. This is about the fact that every time you’re late, and every time you miss a date, I sit there terrified that this is the time I’m going to get a knock on the door and an officer is going to tell me you didn’t make it.”

Maggie wants to say that this wouldn’t happen, that she can handle herself in the field, that Emily’s worries are unfounded.

“It’s part of the job.” she finds herself saying, instead. “Delays, shootings...these things happen, Emily.”

“That’s the problem.” Emily retorts. “You keep putting your job over _us_.”

“That’s not-” Maggie tries to interject, but Emily is shaking her head violently.

“I could accept that if this was the first time this has happened.” she says says,  “Or even the tenth. But I can’t keep worrying like this.”

Maggie nods, and moves to stand across from Emily. She can feel her face threatening to crumble, in the fleeting distance where she crosses to floor to face Emily, but she knows it is still when she looks up.

“I understand.” she says, her voice even. A whimper, rather than a bang, to end five years of something that had been perilously close to commitment.

Emily eyes her with something like disbelief, and Maggie gets it, she really does. Gets how she must look to Emily, her face a preternatural mask of calm, her tone stilted. She could break apart at the seam perhaps, as an alternative choice; she doesn’t feel capable of anything more nuanced than that; she never has, when it comes to the things that matter.

She’s standing there, statue-like, when the phone in her phone vibrates, and Maggie swears that she’s shaken back to life with this.

The text is characterically brief, when she thumbs the display alive with shaking digits. _I found them. You might want to get here before they die._

Maggie stares wordlessly at the phone, and then up at Emily. She doesn’t need to see the unlisted number notification to know who had sent the text.

“Emily-” she starts, but Emily is already sinking down into the sofa, eyes turning towards the television set, hands reaching for the remote again.

“Go.” she states, sounding more weary than defeated.

Maggie hesitates, and then walks out, setting off into a dead run as soon as she’s closed the door behind her.

 

\--

 

By the time Alex texts her the directions, Maggie’s bike is halfway down to the ports, heading there through side roads to avoid the bulk of the traffic, which is considerable even though it’s past midnight.

This is what she gets, she tells herself. She has only herself to blame, for this, for thinking she could work with someone who had displayed nothing but flagrant disrespect for the law, and everything ancillary to it.

It’s pitch dark by the time she makes it down to the docks, but they’re already alive with men setting up for the morning trawl. Here, Maggie is just another figure rushing through a harried crowd.

She runs past the row of docked ships, though, towards the storage room that Alex’s text had indicated, flashing her NCPD badge at a security guard who tries to intercept her.

She kicks the door open, and the first thing that draws her eyes is Alex in the corner of the room, punching the lights out of what has got to be one of the Braxians, though he looks eerily human in the dim lighting.

The other alien is lying on the ground beside them, one leg twisted at a gruesome angle, and there is a boy next to him - who has got to be Aran, from a photograph Alex had texted her - looking down at the motionless body in horror.

“You’re late, Sawyer.” Alex says, flicking a glance in Maggie direction, before going back to laying punches on the alien below her, punctuating each blow with her words. “Started...without...you.”

The last punch lands with a crunch, and perhaps that is what makes Maggie draw in a sharp breath, or perhaps it is the fact that Alex’s words are a gruesome echo of Emily’s.

“Alex.” she she says, and then repeats the name louder, when Alex keeps raining blows down on the alien without acknowledging her.

“They thought I was going to play their little ransom game.” Alex growls, as the body below her lets out a gurgle, like it’s trying to breathe through fluid.

Maggie feels her stomach turn. She waits until Alex is rearing back for the next punch, and then grabs onto her arms.

“ _Enough_.”

For a moment, Alex’s arms push against her hold, threatening to pull Maggie’s smaller frame forward with their momentum. Maggie stumbles, grits her teeth, and holds on.

“This is not the answer, Danvers.” she grits out, as Alex lets out a snarls of frustration and stops moving, arm still coiled up with tension.

“This piece of shit strung Aran up like he was _meat_ .“Alex snarls, “He was going to cut him up to get to me. Like he was some kind of _bargaining chip._ ”

She pushes forward again, but Maggie has braced herself this time, and she grounds herself with her legs, as she holds Alex back.

“Doesn’t excuse murdering him in cold blood.” she grunts out. “Let me bring him in.”

“Because the justice system has worked out so well in the past.” Alex retorts.

“Maybe not.” Maggie allows, “But going outside of it like this rarely helps, either.”

“He was going to hurt him.” Alex says, her free hand still curled claw-like around the throat of the Briaxian. “He’s got to pay for what he did, Maggie.”

“And the system will deal with that.” Maggie says, “He’s not worth losing a piece of yourself over, Alex. None of them are.”

“You don’t know what I’ve lost.” Alex snarls.

“Maybe I don’t.” Maggie says, “But I started my beat in Star City, and then in Gotham, and believe me, I know what it means to kill, and I know what it takes out of you.”

“I’ve killed before.” Alex says.

“Like I said, so have I. That doesn’t mean you have to, this time.”

The silence that follows Maggie’s reply is punctuated by the gurgled breathing of the Braxian and Alex’s own labored breathing. Maggie can see blood staining Alex’s knuckles, red as any human’s, and her stomach still wants to turn, but she knows that she can’t look away from this.

“Let me take him in.” she says again, and finally, _finally,_ feels Alex’s arm untense underneath her hold.

“If he gets out,” Alex breathes, her voice ragged, “If he goes free-”

“I’ll testify against his release.” Maggie replies. “At every hearing. Promise.”

It seems like ages before Alex speaks again.

“Fine.”

 

\---

 

Alex disappears somewhere between the time when Maggie calls her station and when the Science Division’s night shift arrives on scene, taking the kid with her.

Maggie is too distracted to pay attention to it at the time, between explaining to the irate night shift guys why she’s at a crime scene off-shift, overseeing the removal of the two hurt aliens to the nearest ICU, and fabricating a plausible story for how she took out two full-sized humanoid aliens on her own.

When she exits the station for a break while the arrests are being processed, though, she’s not exactly surprised to see a tall figure lingering in the parking lot. Maggie moves towards it.

“They’ll be spending the night in the hospital.” She says, as soon as she’s within hearing distance, and Alex’s opening mouth snaps shut. “We’ll have them in lockup by morning, though.”

“You go to a lot of trouble for petty criminals.” Alex says, and Maggie can feel herself bristle.

“They’ll be in lockup as soon as the doctor stitches them up.” she reiterates. “Speaking of which, _please_ tell me that the kid...Aran...is at a hospital right now.”

“I got there before the guys started on him.” Alex says, “He’s not hurt.”

“He still needs to see someone.” Maggie insists. “You’ve got to let a trained doctor look him over.”

“He already got a checkup.” Alex says, her tone turning stubborn. “I’ve got access to a private practitioner.”

Maggie lets it be. She doesn’t entirely trust Alex, and she’s pretty sure that the woman has lied to her about a great many things, but somehow, she thinks, not about this.

Alex eyes her when no reply is forthcoming, and then turns to head off in what is clearly the direction of the vehicle she had arrived in. Maggie eyes the sleek black van in the distance. Even from here, she can tell that it’s a far cry from the banged up Ducati that Alex had arrived in at the bar.

“No bike this time.” she comments. Not that she particularly wants to explore the reasons for why Alex might have brought a van to the confrontation, rather than her usual ride.

Alex just lets out a muted hum of acknowledgment, but she doesn’t seem to have any objections to Maggie following her to the vehicle. They walk half the distance there in comfortable silence, before Alex fishes out a set of keys from her pocket, the jingling of them incongruously harsh against the quiet night.

“You know,” she begins. “On Krypton...the planet, you know? They had this really strict policy on criminals. Anyone convicted of a crime was deported immediately. Didn't matter what the severity of the crime was.”

Maggie skips a beat in her stride.

“Deported off a planet?” she asks confusedly.

“Space prison.” Alex says briefly, waving her hand around in the universal sign for _it’s a long story._

Maggie raises an eyebrow.

“I didn’t know you’d made a study of other planets.”

Alex shrugs and looks away. Her hand is playing with locks of her hair, and Maggie wonders for a moment if she’s _embarrassed._ “I picked up a bit here and there.”

Maggie feels like she’d give a solid arm and leg right now, to get clarification on what “here and there” means.

“And how well did that work for them?” she asks, because she might not be some alien buff like Alex seems to be, but _everyone_ knows what happened to Krypton.

Alex studies the ground below her, and there is something on her face that could be sadness, or grief.

“Not well in the long run, I think.” she replies eventually, and it’s not quite a concession, but Maggie decides that she’ll take it.

Alex stops when they near her van, and seems to hesitate, before turning to Maggie.

“I’ve still the got the address to your apartment.” she says. “I didn’t mean to make you go through all this trouble, when it’s not even your shift.”

Maggie can’t help frowning at that.

“My address? You mean from that time you creeped on my phone to find your location?” she asks.

Alex shrugs, looking not the least bit chastised.

“Remember that stuff you said about arresting me being your job, and self-preservation being mine?” she asks, and then it’s Maggie’s turn to hum noncommittally.

“I’ve got to go back in, actually.” she says, in reply to the earlier implied offer. “Need to straighten things out with the night shift guys, before I head out.”

There’s an oddly disgruntled expression on Alex’s face when she hears that, but a moment later she’s nodding, and moving towards the van.

“Later, Maggie.” she says, tone carefully nonchalant.

Maggie blinks, and watches Alex maneuver out of the parking lot without responding. Alex waves a jaunty hand in goodbye just before she pulls off, and belatedly, Maggie puts her own hand up.

She shakes her head, and then returns to the station to clear up the sudden flurry that her bringing in the two aliens off-shift had caused.

“Yes, I’ll cover the shift for your son’s ball game, Sean.” She assures the sergeant on duty, for the third time. “And I really am sorry about the extra work. I just kind of ...ran into those guys.”

He only grunts in acknowledgement, and seems ready to start in for a fifth time about the extra paperwork he’s going to have to do, when Diana, the station’s admin, intervenes.

“Maggie?” she ventures. “There’s someone here to see you. She’s in one of the waiting rooms. She’s been waiting for a while now.”

Maggie acknowledges the other woman in relief, and rushes towards the waiting rooms before Sean can get another word in.

“Thanks, Diana.” she tells the admin, who’s hurrying to catch up with her. “Didn’t know how I was going to get out of that one.”

“Anytime, Mags.” Diana says. “But, uh, there really _is_ someone waiting for you.”

She unlocks the door to the second waiting room, and holds it open for Maggie, who blinks and enters.

The woman sitting in the chair at the far end of room, rifling through some papers, looks up as Maggie walks in.

“Long night?” Kara asks, when Maggie tries to hold in a groan at seeing her.

“Long week, more like.” Maggie says, but that’s not Kara’s burden to fix, and there’s no denying that the woman has helped out NCPD out of numerous jams, whatever her reasons for doing so may be, so she walks over and takes a seat next to her. “I’m guessing there isn’t a weapon of mass destruction hidden in there this time?”

She gestures at the donut box on the table as she says this, next to a clipboard, and Kara stares.

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, detective.” she informs Maggie, and opens the box to offer Maggie a leftover crueller.

Maggie waves it away.

“I’m more a flatbread and dip girl.” she says, and Kara eyes her in something like fascinated horror.

“So?” Maggie prompts, as the look turns from horror to disgusted acceptance, “What’s up? Assuming you didn’t stop by to chat.”

Kara pushes a clipboard towards her in reply.

“I need you to keep an eye on this company.”

Maggie stares down a printout of a wikipedia page.

“L Corp.” she reads out, and looks up at Kara, remembering something she had read about in the news two weeks ago. “Right, that new skyscraper downtown, the one that just got finished. You think they’re involved in something shady?”

“I...don’t know.” Kara looks conflicted as she replies. “I think their CEO is worth keeping an eye on...actually, I think she might be in danger.”

Maggie scans back down the printout, and taps a finger against the paper when she gets to the line that she can tell Kara had wanted her to notice.

“Lena Luthor. Relation to Lex Luthor, I assume.” She doesn’t keep up with everything that goes on out in Metropolis, but it seems too much of a coincidence not to be the case.

Kara nods in affirmation.

“If I ever call you to deploy a team to L Corp, I need you to trust me and do it.” she says, and Maggie can’t help her eyebrows rising.

“That’s a lot of tax dollars going to waste if you’re not on the money.” she comments.

“You asked me, before, why I was helping you out.” Kara says, and then spreads her hands out, as if to say, _here it is._

Maggie thinks about it.

“Tit for tat?” she asks.

“Everyone wins.” Kara nods.

Maggie doesn’t see a point in waffling about her answer, because she already knows it, and she can tell Kara knows it, too.

“I’ll go along with it for now.” she allows, “But the _first_ false alarm, and the deal is off.”

“I won’t let your trust down.” Kara says, gratitude plain on her face. “Thank you.”

Maggie resists the urge to look away in embarrassment. She’s never really spoken with someone this _open_ with their emotions, before.

“Is that all you need?” she asks eventually, aware that Kara is looking at her expectantly.

Kara nods, and stands up. For a moment, as she stares down at the clipboard that Maggie has slid back towards her, her straight-backed form buckles, and Maggie sees a woman stooped with the weight of entire planets on her shoulders.

“For all your talk of trusting people,” she tells Kara, before her brain has quite caught up to her words, “I hope you’ve got people you work with.”

Kara looks confused at this sudden departure from their previous line of conversation, and Maggie cannot blame her. It seems fitting, though, to want some form of support system for this woman, who had brought into Maggie’s life a chaos that seems to ground her, when everything else seems adrift.

“Because you were right.” she expands, and, when Kara continues to look at her inquiringly, “People _are_ worth believing in, sometimes.”

Alex had listened to her in the warehouse, though she had no reason to, though the system has proven time and time again not to work in the past, and Maggie still doesn’t know the reason for that faith. She only knows that, perhaps, it doesn’t hurt to pass it on, just this once.

Kara gives a brief smile in response to her words. The tension around her eyes doesn’t seem to have abated, not entirely, but there’s a lighter set to her face, when she heads for the door.

“ _Always_.” she says mildly, with her hand of the door handle, and Maggie has to blink and backtrack to slot that word into the course of their conversation.

“We’re going to have to disagree on that part.” she quips, once she gets it, which just grants her an easy grin from the other woman, like that’s an argument for another day.

“I have to go now.” Kara says, “I’ve got someone waiting up for me.”

She leaves the room after that. Maggie hears her saying goodbye to everyone in her path, as she exits the station, and she wonders if hope and sunshine could take the shape of a person, and how strong that person would have to be to epitomize that, in the face of all the cruelty the world could throw at them.

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like this chapter! :) It got a little longer than I anticipated, and it also took a little longer to post than I had planned, because I had to take time off halfway through to write another longfic ;) Future updates should be more regular, though :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex throws a new wrench into the works, Maggie learns a little bit more about Alex, Kara seems to be everywhere at once, and even in a city without a super, everyday heroes change hearts little by little.

“Package for you, Sawyer!” 

Maggie frowns in bemusement at the magazine, still shrinkwrapped, that is haphazardly deposited on her desk by the station admin. Not a usual occurrence, but the confusion clears up when she sees CATCO printed in bold at the top of the magazine.

Maggie stares at it, back at the statements she’s supposed to be reviewing, and proceeds to open the magazine with only a slight feeling of guilt.

Cat Grant’s resignation from her position as Editor greets Maggie on the first page. Something she would normally skip, but their previous conversation compels Maggie to give it a skim. There’s the same spiel about still remaining on the board and supporting the team, with some added plugs about some organizations and charities Grant plans to be working with on her time off.

Maggie flips to the article in mild anticipation. A full-spread picture of the Sinclair arrest, and James’ name on the byline, are the first things that greet her, and it gives her a bit of pause. Her picture is cropped out of the shot, thankfully, but Maggie still wonders if it’s the right sort of photo to begin such a series with. She browses the article itself, and finds it in much the same vein. Well-crafted, and certainly to the point, but without much substance.

Maggie is giving it a second read-through, when her phone buzzes with a text from M’gann. 

_ Still on for tonight? _

_ Oh, right.  _ The third shift she’s covering at the bar, to pay back for the M’gann’s tipoff about the Braxians. Maggie texts back in the affirmative, and then stares down at her phone, an idea forming. 

She pulls up another contact, and starts typing.  _ You free this evening? Got a bar that I think you might like to visit. _

“Busy, Sawyer?” a clipped voice comes from behind Maggie, as she’s putting the phone back into her pocket.

“I was just going through the statements on the cartel case.” Maggie replies, turning to face Captain Rivera, “What’s up?”

Captain Rivera pinches the bridge of her nose, looking vaguely exasperated as she does so.

“Remember that L Corp publicity thing that’s supposed to be happening this Friday?”

“The press conference?” Maggie asks. “Yeah, Tyler might have said a word or two about it at the bar.” Which is  _ really _ downplaying the endless bragging she had been subjected to by the head of the downtown precinct on the matter, during the rare night that she had ventured with her squad to the cop bar down by the docks.

The captain gives her a wry smile, like she knows exactly what Maggie had left unsaid, but her expression reverts to one of borderline exasperation as she continues.

“Well, they want to borrow a member of Science Division for the team doing security for it.”

Maggie stares. “But the conference is in two days, and they’ve already refused to let us even come near the case.”

“Politics.” the captain replies grimly, rolling her eyes. “Turns out they’ve got some threats in the mail claiming to be from people disgruntled with Luthor’s...well, with her brother’s ....rhetoric.”

“You mean his speeches where he says he wants to round up all the aliens on earth and throw them into the vacuum of space?” Maggie asks, unable to keep the wryness out of her voice. Sometimes she forgets that the captain, highly-decorated or not, still works for the brass, and can ply their lingo with the best of them.

Captain Rivera puts up a hand, as if requesting for peace.

“I’m sending you in.” she says. “They’re anticipating intervention from both alien and human quarters at the event, so they want SciDiv to be on site.”

“The downtown team  _ never _ wants us there.” Maggie points out. 

The captain’s reply is a commiserating eyeroll, and of course, she has probably had to deal with the power-jockeys downtown far more often than Maggie.

Maggie shrugs. 

“All right, that still gives me a couple of days to get over there and learn the ropes.” She peters out when she sees the captain wince. “What?”

“Well, turns out Luthor has called a surprise run-through of the conference today.” the captain says looking apologetic. “Just her and her executive team, and a few guests, but it’s going to be on location.”

Such short notice should have been refused, by all municipal laws governing security detail. Maggie doesn’t waste time protesting, though. The NCPD isn’t exactly known for standing up to the upper echelons of society. Such are the pitfalls of policing in the vicinity of Hollywood, Maggie has found.

“How long do I have, then?” she asks, instead. 

“The runthrough is at noon.” the captain replies, glancing down at her watch. “You’ve got two hours almost on the dot before the it officially begins, but a squad van is heading out to the site in fifteen, so you’ll need to be fast if you want to catch it.”

Maggie is already fastening her vest on. 

“Need me to call them to wait for you?” the captain asks, watching her.

Maggie hesitates for a moment before continuing to clip the vest on at a faster pace.

“I’ll run.” she says.

“The pickup spot is almost two miles away, Sawyer.”

“I’ll run very fast.” Maggie amends, and the captain’s mouth turns up.

“That’s my girl.” she replies, and throws a bag at Maggie, just as Maggie has finished tightening the last strap on her vest.

Maggie flicks it away out of habit, then scrambles after it when her brain catches up to her actions. Catching it, she stares at the three identical metal devices lying inside, along with a device with two buttons on it, before looking up at the captain.

“I thought these were still in testing.”

“They are.” The captain cuts in. “But this batch just got sent out of Phase One, and I’m thinking you might need a little something up your sleeve for this detail.”

The metal orbs sway gently in the bag as Maggie stares down at them, releasing soft clinks with each contact.

“Can’t hurt.” she says, giving a brief smile at the captain, and a mock salute, before heading out of the station at a dead run.

 \--

_ It’s wrong _ , is Maggie’s first thought when she gets out of the squad van, and gets her first look at the park where Luthor is holding the press conference. 

That initial surmise keeps returning, as she nods in acquiescence to the team lead’s brusque order for her to scout the crowd. The park is too open, the only shelter being a couple of wide cement pillars near the makeshift podium, which have two intertwined ‘L’s carved on each of them. The L Corp headquarters, and the few other skyscrapers that sparsely dot National City’s skyline, loom on one side of the park, but a thick grove of trees nestle it on all other sides. 

Perfect vantage points aplenty, Maggie can’t help noticing, for anyone looking to launch an attack, and far too much ground for 12 officers to cover on such notice.

She vaguely remembers that this park had been gifted by L Corp, quite a few years before the company had decided to move its headquarters to National City. She can understand, therefore, why Luthor had insisted on choosing it to make her company’s first public announcement. That, however, doesn’t stop Maggie from frowning at the crowd of guests milling around the park, looking in muted excitement towards the podium near which Luthor stands, surrounded by men in suits.

“Why hasn’t she got anyone covering her?” she asks Tyler, the team lead in charge of the detail, moving to where he has just finished issuing orders to the squad that usually works under him. “She’ll be a sitting duck out there on the platform.”

“She refused it.” Tyler says. He looks vaguely annoyed at her for even questioning him, and Maggie remembers, again, why she tries to avoid working with this guy. “Said something about not wanting to live in fear, or some other bullshit like that. Why do you think we got such late notice on this runthrough?”

Maggie can’t help pursing her lips. Typical. Get someone high profile enough to do security detail for, and too many in her profession would roll right over to accept any compromises they demanded on safety.

“Weren’t you supposed to be scoping out the guests, Sawyer?” Tyler asks, while she’s debating whether to press the issue, and turns back to his squad, leaving Maggie to swallow the argument that she had been about to make.

She moves back in the direction of the guests, strolling casually in their periphery, watching for the signs as she’s been trained to. She’s cataloguing them mentally in her head - the twitchiness, the throat swallows, the constant head turning, although all of that could be attributed as easily to excitement as to anxiety - when an unmistakeable head of blond hair makes her stop in her tracks.

Kara seems to sense immediately that she’s being watched, and tries to shuffle back into the crowd, although - Maggie notes with only a little amusement - it’s quite hard to, at her height of six feet and change.  

The amusement quickly turns to irritation, as Maggie wades through the crowd to clutch at Kara’s arm. 

“What the hell are you doing?” she asks without preamble, pitching her voice low, although most of the guests seem to be in the networking stage of the event, and paying little attention to them.

Kara smooths down her shirt, and looks at Maggie with eyes that are just a little too sure of herself, for Maggie to buy her nervous actions.

“Detective Sawyer.” she says, “I thought you might be working this shift.”

“Got called in at the last minute, actually.” Maggie retorts. “But you haven’t answered my question.”

“I’m from one of the organizations that L Corp is looking into working with.” Kara replies, airily flashing a guess badge at her, that says  _ Kara,  _ with a mouthful of an organization name below it. Agency for the something something or other.

Maggie scans the badge and sure enough, it goes through.

“Wordy name.” she comments, handing it back. “You one of the brass there?”

“Just an assistant learning the ropes.” Kara says, gesturing at the execs in expensive suits all around her, and then at her own buttondown, with expressively raised eyebrows. “And acronyms are your friend, detective.”

“Why is an agency for-” Maggie pauses to read the badge again “ the ‘longterm understanding’ of aliens, doing at a Luthor’s press conference?”

She’s asking it out of sheer curiosity, but Kara’s posture becomes curiously defensive. Her hands cross around her torso, the gesture incredibly familiar in a way that bothers Maggie.

“Maybe I came for the free food.” she replies, tone just a little bit clipped for Maggie to dismiss the airy words. “Or maybe to prove that apples can fall quite far from trees, sometimes.”

“Newton might disagree.” Maggie quips back out of sheer habit, but frowns as something occurs to her. “Does this have to do with what you told me about L Corp earlier? Because, if so, you shouldn’t be here; it’s dangerous.”

Kara looks almost affronted at that. 

“I’m not someone you need to worry about.” she says, and then, concernedly, “What’s wrong, Maggie?”

Maggie vacillates, and gestures at the open area around them.

“Got a bad feeling about this setup.” she says. “Just...be careful.”

“Funny.” Kara's eyes are crinkling at the corner as she smiles, like Maggie just said something hilarious, “I was going to tell you the same thing.”

Maggie shakes her head, turns away, and makes her way back through the crowd to Tyler, more worried than ever.

“Maybe we need to bring the guests in a little.” she suggests to him abruptly, folding her arms when he turns to her with a  _ you again?  _ look. “They’re too spread out for us to be able to cover them all.”

Tyler stares from the guests to her with some annoyance. “Bringing them in is going to to create an even easier target.”

“True, but we have a better shot at shielding them this way.” Maggie reaches into her pocket, feeling the cool metal against her fingers.  _ A last resort _ , the captain had said. She takes out one of the devices out to show him, and Tyler’s frown only deepens.

“I’ve heard about those.” he says. “I thought they were still in development.”

“Three of them passed the first phase of testing yesterday.” Maggie says, with a shrug. She tries to soften her voice when Tyler keeps frowning at her, but it’s hard to do so, when it feels like control of the situation is slipping further away from them with each second. “There aren’t enough of us to fan out over the whole area, and there might not be enough time for us to get another team deployed here. This is our best shot.”

She looks around, searching for inspiration, and her eyes lands on the largest landmark in the park.

“The pillars.” she says out loud, at the same as Tyler echoes the words.

They look at each other, and it seems like an age to Maggie before he nods.

“Fine.” he says. “I’ll get a couple of the officers to box them inside the pillars. That should be a small enough range for us to guard.”

Maggie doesn’t thank him; something tells her that this guy might take it as an implied challenge to his authority.

“I’ll go check out the podium.” she says instead, and walks to where Luthor and her team are standing next to the makeshift platform, going through what seems to be a last-minute briefing.

Maggie shuffles nearer to the platform, making sure to keep a safe distance away from the group. A slight tap to the podium shows her that the expensive-looking finishing hides flimsy plywood. Not for the first time, Maggie can feel frustration at the short notice for this runthrough chipping away at her composure.

She walks the to other side of the podium, the one most exposed to the woods, and clips another of the devices there, glancing at Luthor and her team to see if they notice. Her hand is not in their line of vision, and the executives are gabbling away, unconcerned, but Maggie catches an infinitesimal tilt of Luthor’s head in her direction. Maggie looks down and pretends to be inspecting the platform, mentally willing Luthor to go back to whatever discussion she had been having with her employees.

She walks back to Tyler a few moments later, as Luthor climbs to the stadium, and the runthrough begins in earnest. Maggie takes the position that Tyler directs her to, doing a quick scan around, her fingers nervously palming the remote activation device in her pocket.

She’s only barely paying attention to Lena’s speech, when it begins, but Kara’s voice, ringing out during a lull in the announcements, makes her head turn.

“Aren’t you concerned that this product will further deepen the divide between human and alien communities?” Kara is asking, pointing to a product that Luthor is holding up in her hands. 

Maggie vaguely remembers hearing about it at M’gann’s bar; it’s some kind of rudimentary alien-detecting device that L Corp is supposed to be debuting at this conference. Two Atalantans at the bar had already been touting a counter-device that was supposedly able to fool it. 

Luthor doesn’t seem fazed by Kara’s question.

“I think the people have a right to know who their neighbours are.” she answers serenely.

“That wouldn’t give aliens a choice in the matter, though.” Kara’s voice comes out clearly, without any particular inflection or judgement on it, but her expressive face is another matter. Maggie can see faint irritation and determination warring on it, along with a nervous anxiety that Maggie has never spotted before. It makes her look somewhat awkward, standing there.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a member of the press.” Luthor says, a faint smile curving up her mouth, and moves on to taking someone else’s question without answering Kara’s. 

Maggie shakes her head and turns back to surveying the area. As she looks away, however, she catches the barest hint of a shadow cross over Luthor’s face as she speaks, sees the words coming a little more haltingly, as if she’s not quite so sure of what she’s saying, any longer.

\---

The attack happens almost an hour later, in the middle of the eleventh question.

Perhaps the only reason Maggie spots it before it hits, is because she’s paying special attention to the grove behind her. A flash of light seems to pass through the leaves, the color subtly different from the sunlight dappling on the leaves, and Maggie only just manages to press the remote in her pocket before the first blast comes. 

She barks directions into her headset to the team covering the guests, and sets off on a dead run towards Luthor, who’s staring shell-shocked as the first blast hits one of the pillars sheltering the guests, knocking a few name plaques off of it. 

Maggie shoots a few replying volleys in the direction of the light, seeing another blast heading for the pillars, and being deflected by a shield that seems to be made of sheer light.

_ It worked. The captain was right. _

Maggie doesn’t have much time to celebrate, though, because she can see the third flash heading for the podium, can see Luthor jumping and ducking adroitly behind the stand, which might protect her from taking direct damage, but won’t do any good to her when the wood eventually splinters from the force of the blast.

The second shield she had installed on the platform activates as soon as the blast hits though, though even the muted force is enough to send Luthor flying. Maggie curses as two other blasts follow in short succession. The force fields had only been intended for short-term defense. She doesn’t imagine that they’ll hold up for much longer, with these kinds of hits. 

A final explosion shakes the platform as she reaches it, and Maggie can feel her heart sinking, as the force field dissipates, and the platform goes up in splinters. 

She runs through the rubble as the smoke clears, and lets out a shaky breath when she sees a pale hand pull itself up, framed against splinters of wood. Maggie wastes no time in jumping between the body and the direction in which the blasts had come from. Her body, even in tactical gear, might not be much of a shield, but it could buy Luthor enough time until the rest of the team could make their way over.

No subsequent blast is forthcoming, though, and after a few minutes of harried anticipation, Maggie chances lifting her head and looking above her. The funfire seems to have stopped, and he can hear Tyler in her headset, voice still calm, telling his team to fan out and check the woods, while another officer calls for medical support.

“Are you alright?” Maggie asks Luthor, who is already clambering to her feet, her face pale but her jaw set with a determination that looks somewhat savage.

“There was something.” Lena sounds dazed. “Someone was...she was..” she shakes herself, and some of the coolness returns to her tone, “I’m fine detective. Unharmed.”

Maggie shrugs, and deposits her into the hands of the squad stalking towards them. They forming a protective ring around Luthor, which she doesn’t seem to argue against this time, although she does seem to be turning around in circles, as if looking for something.

Maggie leaves them, and is heading back in Tyler’s direction, when a casual scan between the pillars brings her up short. The forcefield around them hasn’t dissolved yet, but Maggie can see right through it,  to the guests huddled behind, fear and confusion written on their faces. She can see too, that one of them is missing. 

_ No. _ They’d been told to stay within the pillars. 

But Kara  _ would _ disobey, Maggie thinks, with a rising sense of panic that she tries frantically to subdue. Kara is exactly the type to want to  _ help. _

Maggie does one final scan of the huddled heads, before running frantically through the rubble surrounding the area, looking for something, for any sign.

_ No bones.  _ Maggie breathes easily again. No bone fragments, no smithereens of flesh, nothing to show that a person had been caught in the crossfire. Whatever had happened to Kara, what she had feared had not been it.

She deactivates the device she’d installed on the pillars, pocketing it along with the burnt out one that she had picked up from the podium.

“Forcefield-emitting devices.” Tyler says, shaking his head, as Maggie walks up to him and removes her helmet. “Fucking Star Wars up in here.”

He doesn’t sound angry though, not exactly. A little bemused, maybe.

“They saved lives today.” Maggie reminds him, and she had wanted it to sound light, but she can feel her voice coming out jagged and sharp, and  _ dammit _ , she doesn’t know why she cares so much, except that Kara had looked so  _ earnest _ , when she had asked Luthor that question about the device. It feels like a gutpunch, to know that such a person had come so close to dying. 

Sure enough, Tyler picks up on the heat in her voice, and becomes instantly defensive.

“Can we wait until the cleanup is done, before you chew me out for  _ doing my job _ ?” he asks. 

“If your division hadn’t been so intent on capitalizing on the glory of doing security for a Luthor, instead of making sure the security standards were met, we wouldn’t be here in the first place.” Maggie bites out. “You had every right to call off this event  _ the moment _ the company failed to give you adequate notice.”

“I had no way of knowing  _ this _ was going to happen.” he argues, waving in the general direction of the woods, where the team sent for scouting is now coming out of, empty-handed. “I didn’t even know that kind of technology existed.”

“Then maybe you should have let the Science Division handle this, seeing as we  _ do. _ ” Maggie retorts, and walks away to supervise the handling over of the guests to the waiting medical transports.

\---

The captain is not at the station when Maggie returns, which is fine by her, because she doesn’t feel up to facing a lecture right at the moment, on whatever insubordination report has already been filed by Tyler about her.

She shouldn’t have lost her temper. It’s a mantra that has been going through Maggie’s head, over and over again, in the ride back to the station, but another regret overrides even that. She should have  _ convinced _ him harder, she thinks savagely, as she stalks to her desk and shifts through the paperwork on it, trying to get together the statements on the Centaurian cartel case before the captain comes back.

“Sawyer, you’re on the cartel case, right?” one of the deputies on guard calls out, and Maggie turns around, nodding as she does so.

“What’s up?” she asks, and he gestures to one of the interrogation rooms.

“Bit late to see your witness, aren’t ya?” he asks, and Maggie can feel her eyebrows raise. She had questioned all the leads they had on the case  _ yesterday _ . 

“When did they come in?” she asks him. 

“‘Bout an hour ago.” he shrugs. “I got her signed in, but-” He makes a startled motion, as Maggie rounds on the screens he’s looking at it, which shows two different angles of the person currently occupying the interrogation room. A person who is gazing, unruffled, directly into one of the cameras.

“Bit creepy.” he mutters. “Been doing that since she came in.”

Maggie begins to sigh, but cuts it short as the deputy looks at her in mild intrigue.

“Do me a favor, Manny.” she says. “Turn the cameras off for this one.”

He looks like he’s going to argue, but disconnects them as she requested.

“Thanks.” Maggie calls behind her back, already heading for the room he had gestured at.

The room’s occupant doesn’t start when Maggie throws the door open, or even turn to face her, which isn’t much more than Maggie had been expecting.

“I want to say I’m surprised.” she says, closing the door behind her, and walking over to take a seat opposite Alex. “But I’m really,  _ really _ , not.”

That’s when Alex looks down from the camera to her. She doesn’t look pleased, exactly, but the corners of her eyes crinkle upward, and Maggie can feel her own mouth stretching in response, in something she recognizes to be horrifying close to a smile, and  _ oh _ , has it only been two weeks?

“Miss me?” Alex asks, but the tone comes out all wrong. It should sound flippant, Maggie thinks, but Alex just sounds serious, maybe a little tentative. Maggie wonders if she had ever sounded not serious, if there had ever been a person who had been able to make her put down her walls.

_ Such a person...they must have been remarkable. _

Maggie shrugs away that unwelcome thought, and perhaps her next question comes out a little harsher than expected, from the mortification of entertaining it.

“What did you witness this time...a bunch of college kids getting too loud off the 405?”

Alex doesn’t crack smile at that, just looks mildly stymied.

“Once upon a time I’d have  _ been _ one of those kids, you know.” she says, almost a full minute later, and Maggie can feel the curiosity again, can feel her entire being gravitating towards the desire to know more about Alex, more about even these seemingly inconsequential statements.

It’s always been her greatest weakness, her curiosity. It’s gotten her into hot water more times than she can admit. 

“Here to turn yourself in for it, then?” she asks mildly, and this time Alex does smile, sharp and knowing and  _ delighted _ . 

“You’d like that.” she comments, before her face turns serious again. “I’ve got some information for you.”

“How did you even know I was working on this case?” Maggie asks.

“Lucky guess.” Alex shrugs. “I knew it had to be someone from your division, and I asked around until I found out you were the lead.”

Maggie takes out the writing pad she carries around, and smiles when she sees Alex laser in on it fascination, eyes drifting over the top page, which already has notes on it.

“It’s in code.” she says, almost certain that Alex is trying to read it upside down.

“I can crack it.” Alex replies simply, and - Maggie thinks, with an inward sigh - yes, she has no doubt that Alex could. 

Not for the first time, she frets over whether she’s in over her head with all...this.

“It’s the chemical makeup of the drug.” Alex prompts into the silence, as Maggie is thinking over this. “I can get it for you.”

Maggie’s hands, automatically copying down her statement in code, stalls at that.

“The most advanced lab that NCPD has access to came back unable to find the composition.” she says. “You’re tell me that  _ you’ve _ got technology that can do it?”

“No, I’ve got the  _ information _ .” Alex says. “I’ve got access to a database that can not only pinpoint the chemical for you, but gives information on what it can do to a Centaurian’s body, and how it can be fatal to other species, and gives specific examples of exposure.”

_ Fucking Christmas.  _ It’s too good to be true, it’s probably not true, and yet, Alex had willingly walked into a police station to give her this information, so Maggie has a duty to talk through this, at least.

“How do you know this?” 

Alex seems to hesitate for a fraction.

“I’ve used it before.” she says after that pause. “How do you think I learned everything I know about alien technology?”

_ But how did  _ you _ get access to such technology? _ Maggie thinks.

“Where’s this database, then?” she asks.

“That’s what I’m here about.” Alex replies, settling back in her chair, and she smiles again, this time as if in anticipation.   


The bad thing is, Maggie can feel herself wanting to smile too.

“Stakeout?” she asks, wondering idly how many weapons Alex’s subordinates have pointed on this particular room right now, for her to be so composed in this situation.

“More like infiltration.” Alex answers. “The database was stolen, and I’ve only recently narrowed down the hiding place to two locations.” Her face twists into a wry expression. “I was planning on scoping them out myself, but it occurred to me that I’d prefer some backup.”

Maggie notices that Alex doesn’t mention where or who it was stolen from.

“I’m going to need to call in my second on this.” she says, but Alex shakes her head stubbornly.

“I’ll take  _ you _ there.” she states. “But I can’t have anyone else knowing about this.”

“Lucky me.” Maggie murmurs, and then, louder, “But no dice, Danvers. This case is too important for me to be risking it on something that I have nothing but your word for.”

Alex isn’t the bargaining type, she knows, which is why Maggie is a little surprised when Alex moves forward when she delivers that ultimatum, so that they are almost face to face.

“You’re going to be losing your one shot at getting this.” Alex says. “How are you going to get a lab to run tests on a drug made out of elements that don’t even exist on this planet?”

“We don’t need the breakdown of the drug to make the case.” Maggie says. “We can track down witnesses, and they’re likely involved in more than just drugs.”

“But this information would make it a lot easier.” Alex points out.

Maggie resists the urge to look away.

“What do you want, Alex?” she asks eventually. “What’s your angle on this?”

Alex continues to study her, and proceeds to speak quietly. “I came here, risking arrest, to let you know about this. I didn’t make that decision lightly, Maggie.”

“You expect me to believe your guys don’t have this station covered right now, even as we speak?” Maggie volleys back, and maybe her voice is a little harsh, because this is the second time that Alex has used her first name, and maybe the fact that she’s keeping count is a bad sign.

“Do you think they’ll be able to get past an entire station full of trained officers, without casualties on both sides?” Alex says in turn.

It is obviously not a denial, and yet, Maggie can feel herself relenting. Alex  _ had _ been taking a risk, and maybe Maggie owes it to her to meet her halfway, ulterior motivations aside.

“I still get to leave a note for my superior.” she says, “In case we don’t make it back.”

Alex nods to that.

“When do we head out?” Maggie asks.

Somehow, she’s not surprised when Alex’s only response is to get up, and gesture towards the door.

\---

Alex waits outside while Maggie deposits the statements she’s already gathered on the case on the captain’s desk, and leaves a letter in her locked desk cabinet, addressed to her second. 

“Planning to blindfold me while you drive?” she calls out, half-seriously, as she walks up to the familiar black van, where Alex is leaning against the passenger side, blocking Maggie’s entry. “Handcuffs, too, while we’re at it?”

Alex’s eyes fly wide open, of all things, and mumbles something incomprehensible in return, before turning and making her way haltingly to the driver’s side. Maggie gets into the passenger’s side to find Alex avoiding her gaze, and searching the glove compartment for something. 

“Seriously, though.” she continues. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going to visit an underground storage facility that, as of two years ago, was owned by a man called Maxwell Lord.” Alex replies absentmindedly, hands still scrabbling.

“ _ The _ Maxwell Lord, of Lord Technologies?” Maggie asks.

“I take it you’ve had the pleasure.” Alex says, finally bringing out an honest-to-goodness mapbook out of the compartment.

“We used to be called to his factory on almost a weekly basis, on emergency situations.” Maggie says, looking around inside the van, mentally cataloguing the layout of it. 

She doesn’t mention the other times, in other cities, when she had indirectly come into contact with Lord’s questionable approach to ethics. The man’s propensity to experiment at the expense of all lives around him had only been matched by his skill at turning said experiments into war profits, and Maggie can’t say that she had been particularly upset when his company had packed up and moved headquarters to Metropolis, more than two years ago.

Perhaps L Corp isn’t much of a successor, but at least Lena Luthor helps fund hospitals and public parks, instead of stoking war in far-flung nations. 

“Weird how the guy practically dropped off the face of the earth, though.” Maggie comments. It had become somewhat of a running joke at the NCPD to keep tabs on Lord, and as far as Maggie can remember, the man hasn’t made a single public appearance since the move.

Alex is looking down at a map, tracing out a line with a pencil and ruler, but Maggie can feel her stiffen a little at the observation.

Maggie turns inquiringly, but Alex continues to look down. 

“It’s not weird.” she  replies eventually, putting away the mapbook, and reaching up to adjust the angle of the rear view mirror. “It’s completely understandable.” 

“...Why?”

“Because, if he shows his face anywhere near here again, I’ll kill him.” Alex replies.

Maggie sends another quick glance in Alex’s direction. Her face is calm, like they’re discussing where to go for breakfast, but the veins are standing out on her hands, as they grip the steering wheel.

“Do me a favour.” Maggie murmurs. “Just don’t do it in front me. Plausible deniability and all that.”

That, at least, gets Alex to crack a smile.

“So you think this is the place it’s most likely to be found?” Maggie asks.

“One of two.” Alex corrects. “But this will be the easiest to break into, so we’re scoping it out first. We’re kind of going in blind, to be blunt.”

She hesitates at the last sentence, and looks over at Maggie, as if to ask one final time,  _ are you okay with this? _

Maggie runs a thumb over the gun secured in her hip holster, fingers the extra clip in her pocket. It’s become like a ritual to her, before any big mission. A poor substitute for prayer, perhaps, but they give her the same feeling she’d gotten when her parents would drag her to Sunday service, back before everything went amiss, and Maggie would stand in the pew, anonymous, in the midst of a sea of family that she had taken for granted then. Loved, protected, safe.

Maggie returns her hands to their habitual resting place on her thighs.

“That sounds par for the course for us, really.” she says, and Alex starts the van.   


\---

“Something’s been bugging me.” Maggie announces softly.

They’re walking through a dark underground passage that Alex had driven her to, guided by nothing except the flashlight in Maggie’s hand, and a tracker in Alex’s. Perhaps, Maggie thinks, she shouldn’t have been so hasty to follow Alex into this mystery of a reconnaissance, but that’s not fear talking. Alex could surely have done away with her with much less effort, if that had been her end goal.

The truth is, Maggie is  _ bored.  _ It’s been slow going, because they have to halt every few steps to disable sensors built into the walls of the labyrinth, sensors that Alex says would detonate bombs and other weapons if activated. Lord is the dog-in-the-manger type, it seems.

Alex had taught Maggie to deactivate the first sensor, and they had each taken half of the passage to cover after that, but that still leaves them crawling at almost a snail’s pace, leaving Maggie itching for a distraction.

Alex is barely a shadow silhouetted against the flare of Maggie’s flashlights, as she turns her head inquiringly, in response to Maggie’s statement.

“Why are you so sure we’ll find the database?” Maggie continues. “Why would Lord leave it behind, if he left National City? He could make a lot of money off of something like that.”

Especially with a Luthor in charge of the defense program, she thinks, privately.

“Because he didn’t have much time.” Alex replies. “Once he realized the database couldn’t be accessed, he probably put it into the safest location he could on short notice, before fleeing the state.”

She falls silent then, as if that explains everything, leaving Maggie to wonder when these half-truths and half-baked trust falls had become the norm for her to accept from a civilian informant, under which Alex can be classified only by the broadest and most charitable description.

“How do you know he can’t access the database?” she asks.

Alex halts their progress to deal with yet another sensor on her side, before she replies.

“It’s programmed to be only be accessed by someone with....with a certain combination of genetic code.” she says, eventually, tossing a stray wire behind them. “Once that bastard couldn’t hack the program, I’m guessing he abandoned it.” 

“But you said that  _ you _ accessed it.” Maggie points out.

There’s a muscle working in Alex’s jaw, highlighted in strong contrast against the darkness of her surroundings, as she turns to Maggie.

 "I built the database.” she says, and then seems to hesitate, as if her brain has just caught up to her words. “That’s not quite right. The database already existed, but I programmed it to be accessible by human technology.”

“So it’s locked to your DNA?” Maggie guesses.

Alex shakes her head in the negative. “I programmed a backdoor in, just in case, when I was porting the technology over. Guess Lord’s engineers weren’t smart enough to find it.”

Maggie accepts this, and perhaps it’s because she’s so focused on assessing all the external stimuli they’re facing, trying to fend off any threat before it materializes, that she fails to realize the obvious question, until they’re almost at the door of the storage facility.

“Whose DNA is it locked onto, then?”

This Alex does not answer.

\---

“We have to take those sensors off before we can approach.” Alex says, pointing at the row of black orbs arrayed around the room, like some horizontal game of whack-a-mole. 

“Got it.” Maggie says, but Alex is already lifting up her own gun, taking out the first five, before she brings the gun down to reload.

“Let me.” Alex says, authority in her tone. “We can’t afford a bullet going stray.”

Maggie raises her eyebrows, though she knows Alex can’t see it in the darkness, and shoots down the remaining four before Alex is finished reloading. 

“You’re right.” she murmurs, gesturing at the clip in Alex’s hand. “You should save that for later.”

“Ok.” Alex says. Her expression is hard to parse, even when Maggie squints, neither pleased nor upset. “You’re a good shot for a cop.”

Maggie smiles.

“Let’s just say I had an ex that was very much into ballistics.”

She had been a decent shot at the academy, but it had been the streets of Gotham that had brought her up to sharpshooter level. There’d been something about running with a superhero vigilante crowd, that had ratcheted her previously nonexistent competitiveness into overdrive.

“I’m pretty good with a gun.” Alex says, looking down and testing the safety on her blaster. 

Maggie smiles, but says nothing as Alex puts a worn-looking helmet on, wait until Maggie dons hers as well, and motions at Maggie to follow her. Maggie complies, their snail pace giving her plenty of time to contemplate the woman who has almost disappeared into the shadows in front of her. 

She remembers a crown of blazing red hair against a pitch black sky, and thinks that, perhaps - if she didn’t know Alex - she might consider there to be a resemblance. But Alex looks shadowed even in brightest sunlight, the auburn of her hair faded, and Maggie has more than once noticed how well she blends into her environment, used to being overlooked. 

Maggie might as well try to compare two far-flung stars in the sky.

Her eyes, still focused on Alex’s lifted hand, catches one of the fingers slightly turning and pointing to something upcoming on Maggie’s side. Maggie flattens herself against the wall accordingly, and slides forward. It looks to be a wooden door built into the walls, with a faint light bleeding out through the edges. Out of the corner of her eyes, Maggie can see Alex’s helmeted head nod, so she gets up in one fluid movement, kicks in the door, and throws herself away from it.

She registers Alex doing the same behind her, just in time for the door to splinter almost to smithereens.

The next thing Maggie feels is a hefty weight on top of her. It takes her some moments to realize that it’s Alex. 

“Get down!” Alex hisses, as if Maggie weren’t as flat against the ground as she could be by now. 

“ _ I’m _ the trained officer wearing a bulletproof vest!” she hisses back, but Alex only makes an annoyed sound, and pushes her down lower, until Maggie can feel the cold of the ground pressing through her vest, and something metallic clinking in her pocket as she is pressed down.

“You don’t know what he’s capable of.” Alex says, almost right next to Maggie’s ear, and Maggie grits her teeth, tabling what she had been about to fire back.

They lie there for a solid two minutes, listening to the tell tale sound of anything gone astray. From her sheer angle, Maggie can see that the wooden door had hidden a more sophisticated entrance, this one concrete, with a password locked entry pad on one side, on which dust flecks glint in the light of her torch.

“Do you think it’s safe now?” she asks into the silence eventually.

She can feel Alex shaking her head.

“There might be more motion sensors we missed.” She says. “And we don’t know what’s facing us inside that door.”

“The vests should provide some cover.” Maggie suggests.

It is then, that the metallic cold against her thigh registers in her thoughts.

“Hang on.” Maggie flexes her fingers towards her pants pockets, careful not to move her arm more than necessary, and set off any more sensors.

Of course. The unused forcefield emitter. Maggie scrabbles around in her pocket some more, until she finds the remote as well.

“I think I can buy us some time.” she tells Alex, somewhat breathless from the adrenaline. “I can put up a shield between us and any gunfire until we get through the door, but we’ll need to be quick once we get inside.”

Alex doesn’t question her.

“Can you keep it up for a little while past the door?” she asks, “Then we can shoot down any sensors inside too.”

“Depends on if we can disable the password lock in time.” Maggie says. 

“I’ve got the that part covered. 1 minute tops.”

“Then yes.” Maggie slides the shield-emitting orb towards Alex. “Hold this.”

Alex accepts it without question.

“Ready when you are.” she mumbles, bracing against the floor and lifting slightly off of Maggie with her other hand, as if positioned to jump up.

“On three.” Maggie says. 

She counts down as she presses the button on the remote, and the device in Alex’s hands spits out a luminous shield around them. 

In one fluid moment, they’re both up and running towards the door under a hail of fire, Maggie keeping in step with Alex so that the shield covers both of them. 

Alex makes quick work of the door once they reach it, slamming some scrambler device against the passcode entry box, that causes the door to open within seconds.

Inside they face another hailstorm of fire. 

“The gray cannons.” Alex yells over the sound of the shield blocking the hits, pointing at steel grey tubes mounted into the walls above them. “ They’re what’s firing these. We need to take them out.”

“Got it.” Maggie says, extending her hand out of the reach of the shield and bringing down the ones within her line of aim. She grunts as two shots hit her before she can bring her arm back within the shield, but the wounds are superficial. 

She moves to her left to shoot down some more, feeling more than seeing Alex moving in tandem behind her. More wounds from crossfire, again superficial, thanks to the protective clothing she’s wearing. NCPD Tactical Gear 1,  Egomaniacal Bond Villain Hideout Spot 0.

Another hail of fire, and Maggie thinks she hears Alex gasp behind her, remembers that Alex had not been wearing full-body protection, but she doesn’t stop to look, cannot stop, because they need to take all of them down before the the shield dies down. 

Only when the last of the weapons fizzle out does Maggie put down her gun and turn to face Alex.  

Alex is breathing heavily, and there is blood seeping through one sleeve of her jacket, but she tugs Maggie forward before she can comment on it. 

“Look for a black box about the size of a VCR.” she says briefly, gesturing at the rows upon rows of shelves adorning the walls, before moving towards the far end of the room.

Maggie does as instructed, resisting the urge to chafe at the brusque demand.

“It isn’t here.” she says, after some minutes of futile searching. Behind her, she can hear Alex making frustrated noises, as she rifles through the shelves, while looking repeatedly at a device in her hand. 

“My tracker isn’t picking anything up either.” she says. 

“You said there were two locations.” Maggie says. “Maybe it’s in the other one? Or maybe he took it with him after all.” 

Alex’s face is a thundercloud, and her voice comes out in a near-snarl.

“I dragged you here for nothing.” 

“We crossed one possibility out of the list, Danvers. That’s not nothing.”

They do one final check of the room, before Alex is satisfied with the original verdict.

“We had better leave before something else Lord packed in here starts attacking us.” Maggie remarks. 

She takes a few more steps forward before she realizes that Alex hasn’t followed. 

“What was that you used back there?” Alex asks.

Maggie smiles. 

“I guess it’s my turn to say that I had hoped you would overlook that.” she quips, and Alex looks with something like wonder suffusing her face.

“They’re based on alien technology, aren’t they?” Alex asks. There is a knowing conviction in her voice, that makes Maggie think it would be futile to refute it.

“Science Division comes into contact with a lot of alien hostiles.” she replies, shrugging. “Repurposing their technology is one of the consistently effective methods we’ve developed for fighting them.”

Alex seems to be bursting to say something, but also controlling herself. Maggie does it for her.

“It’s not much different from what you do, I know.” she sighs. “But there’s a line, Danvers.” 

There’s a line, and Maggie might not have crossed it yet, but she fears that she’s definitely wobbling on the edge of it.

“I don’t think you realize how true that is.” Alex says quietly, in the darkness.

Maggie sighs, and casts around for a change of subject.

“What did you want to know about it?” she asks. “The device? So I can ask the tech-”

Alex cuts in, like a dam opening.

“The forcefield...is it some kind of supercooled plasma?” she asks. “But how did you get it to move with us? What kind of dimension is it operating in, even-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Maggie puts her hand up. “I just use the things, Danvers; I don’t make them.”

“Oh.” Alex looks momentarily stifled, perhaps even a little embarrassed at her outburst.

“I’ll try to get some information from the lab techs for you.” Maggie offers. She probably can’t give away anything detailed, even if they do tell her, but Maggie figures that getting the gist of it shouldn’t matter, not when Alex seems to be an engineering prodigy regardless, and has already seen the devices in action. 

“Really?” Alex asks, almost shyly.

Maggie nods, if only to wipe that half-mortified look from Alex’s face.

“Ask them about the plasma thing.” Alex demands, and looks only a little abashed this time, when Maggie lifts her eyebrows.

“Don’t know if I can pass on detail of that kind.” Maggie replies. “I’ll run it by them, though.”

She eyes the dark passage that stretches out in front of them again, and feels a mild claustrophobia when she remembers how long they’ve been down here.

“Let’s go.” she insists, looking back, but Alex is just standing there and staring past Maggie, into the the yawning darkness in front of them. 

“I need to thank you.” she says quietly.

“We’re in the middle of escaping from a potentially dangerous bunker that could explode at any moment.” Maggie points out.

“Maybe that’s why I need to say this now.” Alex says stubbornly, but Maggie thinks that maybe it’s something else too. 

Because here, so many feet below the world, in utter silence, things can be said; things that can’t be acknowledged up there, in the space where Alex is a criminal, a criminal whom Maggie should have arrested  _ weeks _ ago.

“What is it?” Maggie asks.

“That night at the docks.” Alex mumbles, “You helped me.” 

“I stopped a crime.” Maggie says. “I’m a cop, Alex. I’m paid a five-figure salary with  _ excellent  _ benefits, to do that job.”

Alex shakes her head stubbornly.

“Let’s not play around, Maggie.” she snaps. “None of that changes the fact that I was about to do something I couldn’t come back from, and you stopped me.”

Maggie licks her lips, saying the one thing that comes to her mind.

“I’m not your moral guide, Alex.” she says. “I can’t be.”

“And today.” Alex steamrolls forward with her argument. “You followed me here, even though you had no reason to believe me.”

“I made a judgment call based on previous encounters with you.” Maggie says.

Alex looks frustrated.

“Why are you making this so hard?” she demands.

“Because you  _ cannot  _ thank me for doing my job, Alex.” Maggie says.

Because she  _ had _ helped Alex that day, she knows, but it had been in the context of doing her job. She had thrown away her ethics to do so, and her final chance at reconciling with her girlfriend, and that  _ cannot _ have been for Alex alone, or for the satisfaction of being  _ thanked _ .

Alex takes a step back at that, and looks away, before turning back to survey Maggie without speaking.

“I know you can’t understand-” Maggie starts, but Alex is shaking her head, and there’s something else in her eyes now, a new light.

“Being praised for doing something good, something noble, but knowing all the while that you’re doing it out of baser instincts?” she asks. “I’m more familiar with that than you think.”

Maggie can hear her own breathing falter in the noiseless passage, uneven and stilted.

“I used to be pretty good at what I did.” Alex says, looking down, as if she’s talking to herself more than to Maggie. “But there was always this ....this person who was better at  _ everything _ than me, and that was what drove me on to do better. It wasn’t all about that, but a part of it always was.”

It isn’t the same, Maggie thinks, but perhaps Alex has struck at the heart of the issue. Strange that here, in this darkness that surrounds them and threatens to suffocate all light, Alex has seen her so clearly.

“We need to go, Alex.” she says.

If tigers or sharks could look nervous, they’d wear an expression similar to one Alex wears now.

“There’s something else.” she says. “If...when we find the database, I can extract the information you’ll need for you, but I’ll need you to deliver the database itself to someone else.”

Maggie hears Alex’s voice coming like it’s from far away, because something about this is beginning to bother her, some realization dawning at the edge of her consciousness that she tries to hold back.

“And you’re asking this  _ now? _ ” she asks, and yet, she suspects that was intentional. She’s already too deep in the mission, her judgement compromised, and Alex, damn her, knows it.

Alex only looks recalcitrant in the face of Maggie’s .

“That database can’t be in the wrong hands, Maggie.”

“What are the right hands?” 

Alex blinks and looks down.

“I can’t tell you until we find it.” 

“Why not?”

Alex’s voice is barely audible.

“You might not like the answer.”

Maggie pauses, thinks about it, and asks the question that has been bugging since Alex had first told her about the existence of the database.

“Who did the database originally belong to, Alex?”

Alex only shakes her head.

“Just promise me you’ll turn it over to the right hands, if we find it.”

And there it is, the line Maggie had been anticipating having to cross, since this entire thing first started.

"Are you ever going to stop talking in riddles, Danvers?”

 "You have to promise me, Maggie.” Alex insists.

The line is glaring, and yet, it is underscored by the fact that Alex had, just minutes before, tried to save her life. Had thrown her body over Maggie’s, to protect her from Lord’s weapons, without a care for her own safety.

It had been reckless, and stupid, and  _ brave, _ and that is what Maggie holds on to when she replies.

“I promise.”

\---

By the time they get out of the passage, it’s past time that Maggie should have clocked out for the day, but Alex offers to drive her back to the station regardless, to pick up her things.

“You’ll call me when the next location is ready to be scoped out?” Maggie asks, when Alex drops her off.

Alex nods, and fingers the gear stick like she’s getting ready to drive off again, but Maggie stalls her with an outstretched hand.

“What if Lord gets wind of us breaking in, and moves the database before we get to the second location?”

 “I’ve got eyes on the lookout for anyone heading for it.” Alex says. “We’ll head in as soon as I get the area mapped out.”

It isn’t comforting, exactly, and Alex is no position to swear to absolute truth. But Alex waves and pulls off, and the words stay behind, enveloping Maggie in an oddly comforting warmth; like a contract, perhaps; dry, but solid and unbreakable.

\---

Maggie is just heading back into the station, straight towards the hallway that leads to SciDiv, when she bumps into Captain Rivera.

“Sawyer, just the person I was looking for.” The captain remarks, but her words trail off when she sees the state of Maggie’s uniform, and the bloody cuts covering her arms. “Is this all from the disaster at the L Corp run-through?”

“Some from after.” Maggie grimaces. “Long story, but the upshot is I might have a lead on the Centaurian drug cartel case.”

The captain raises her eyebrows, but seems to decide not to pursue it after the quiet, defeated sigh that Maggie lets out.

“Let me know if it pans out.” she says briefly, and then. “Heard you had a bit of a row with Tyler from the downtown division, while on scene.”

Maggie winces. She should have known that would have come up to bite her in the ass sooner or later.

“I can-” she begins, but the captain puts a hand up.

“He’s here to see you himself, Sawyer.” she says, gesturing towards Maggie’s desk, where Maggie’s can spot the back of a burly figure, half-hidden by a cupboard. “You’ve both had training on this. Work it out yourselves. I will want a full recount later on what happened to your hands, though, after you’ve been to the hospital ward.”

From the fire into the volcano, then. Maggie movies with some trepidation towards the figure standing by her desk.

Tyler turns around as she walks up to him, but he doesn’t look smug or angry; just determined, as if this is an unpleasant thing to be gotten over with.

“I shouldn’t have tried to undermine your authority.” Maggie says, before he can open his mouth. “No matter how it played out, you were put in charge of the event, and I shouldn’t have agreed to be on the squad if I couldn’t handle that.”

Tyler’s mouth snaps shut, but only for a moment, and then he’s off.

“Lab report came in on the weapons we gathered in the woods.” he says shortly. “Human origin, but highly advanced. Almost military grade. We weren’t dealing with some pissed off amateur gangs there, Sawyer.”

Maggie considers his abrupt admission.

“So what I’m getting out of that is that we got off pretty easy, huh?” she says, after a while. “Could have been a lot worse, it sounds like.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that half those people could have died if you hadn’t used that ...that thing you used.” Tyler says. 

“Forcefield emitters.” Maggie fills in for him.

Tyler grimaces, like he’s swallowed something particularly painful.

“You were right, though.” he says bluntly. “We went in unprepared, and we allowed L Corp’s own security team to make too many unreasonable demands on us. I might as well hand in my badge right now if I can’t admit that.”

“Oh.” Maggie can hear her voice trailing off. That hadn’t been been what she was expecting.

“The truth is,” he continues, “Your division should have handled this job all along, but we didn’t want to lose out on such a high-profile detail.”

He’s being more candid than she expected, but Maggie still gets the feeling there’s something he’s leaving out.

“What are you saying?” she asks, finally.

“We need to work together.” Tyler states, hands clasped in front of him. “Your squad and mine.”

_ No _ is the answer on the tip of Maggie’s tongue. This guy has a history of being arrogant and high-handed, and she has no doubt that this recent capitulation is at least partially fueled by fear of fallout from such a public disaster.

On the other hand, the captain is trusting her to work this one out herself, and Maggie had known, from day one, that compromise would be part of the job, especially for someone like her.

“What’s the plan?” she asks.

“Luthor herself personally overrode her security team, and gave us carte blanche on arranging the security for the actual press conference on Friday.” Tyler says. “That gives us two days to work together and figure this out.”

“Fine.” Maggie nods, “We’ll need open access to everything you gathered on scene, so we can predict what kind of weapons we’ll be up against, and what our best course of defense is.”

He nods at that, and opens his mouth to speak, but Maggie stalls him with an extended finger.

“One more thing.” she tells him mildly. “Someone from Science Division needs to be co-lead.”

He wants to argue, she can tell, by the way he grinds his teeth, and how his face looks like thunder.

“You can have the credits and the limelight.” Maggie tells him, “But, if we’re going to deploy our squad to a scene like we were exposed to this morning, I need to know that they’ll be in good hands.”

He capitulates, though without much grace.

“You?” he guesses.

“That’s up to the captain.” Maggie tells him. She gestures towards Captain Rivera’s office. “She’s that way.”

He nods, turning in that direction, but doesn’t start walking.

“You’ll take a look at the evidence, though?” he asks. “When we send it over?” 

“I’ll go through it tonight.” Maggie promises him. She looks down at her watch. “Right now, though, I’m late for my shift.” 

She smiles faintly at his confused expression, and exits the station. As she heads towards her bike, the phone pings with a reply text.

_ Hi Maggie. Yes, I’m free tonight. Can I bring along a friend?  -James _

Maggie glances at it. On the one hand, M’gann is rather cagey about the humans who frequent the bar, although she doesn’t outright ban anyone. On the other hand, James seems like a fairly good judge of character, and Maggie doubts that he’d bring along anyone the bouncers can’t handle. She texts back in the affirmative, adding along the address to the bar. 

How bad could they be? It’s not like he’s bringing Lex Luthor along.

\---

Maggie is half-right right. James doesn’t bring Lex Luthor along.

He brings  _ Lena  _ Luthor, and judging by her terrified expression, and the expression of some of the other bar patrons, maybe it’s not that different.

“You brings a whole new meaning to friends in high places, don’t you?” Maggie murmurs to James, as he lines up at the bar, ordering a beer for himself and a Shirley Temple for Luthor.

He flashes her a charming grin, only half-apologetic.

"My girlfriend thought that maybe Lena should come see this place.” he says.” he says. “Thought she might like it.”

Maggie looks back at Luthor sitting at the far end of the counter, looking extremely out of her element, and raises her eyebrows at James. He shrugs, looking a bit more unsure now.

“I’m not sure what to say to her.” he admits, “I feel a bit out of my element here.”

“Maybe bringing a Luthor to an alien bar wasn’t the best of acclimatization experiments.

“On any other day, I may agree.” James replies speculatively. “Or, I may remember that I have a very vested stake in not passing mass judgement on a group of a people.”

“I do too.” Maggie points out. “That doesn’t necessarily make this a good idea.”

James reply is more sober this time. “I trust my girlfriend on this, Maggie. Her judgement tends to pull through.”

“She must be remarkable.” Maggie remarks, somewhat sarcastically, but can feel herself relenting.

James only flashes another charming grin at her, this surprising man who would take the sister of his best friend's nemesis to a bar, just because his girlfriend had asked him to.  


“She is.” he agrees, and there’s a conviction in his voice that has the solidity of stone, and it suddenly makes Maggie’s heart ache, remembering Emily, and what they had almost shared.

“Got to get to work.” James says, as she slides the finished drinks towards him. He grabs them and makes his way back to Luthor, chatting briefly with her before heading into the crowd.

Maggie serves a couple more patrons, watching James makes his way around the bar, engaging patrons in conversations with an ease that has always eluded Maggie. There’s something open and warm about him, she can see, that makes even the wariest of aliens welcome him into their circle, and yet, she also gets the feeling that the calculated grace behind it, and patience, comes from years of practice.

In another lull between patrons, she turns back to see Luthor, still alone at the bar. Now, though, Luthor is looking at James. There is something like envy in her eyes, and Maggie finds that she can commiserate.

For some reason, Kara’s words from the morning suddenly resonate in her head.  _ Apples can fall quite free from trees, sometimes. _

Before she can think better of the idea, Maggie takes out the necessary ingredients, and sets about making one of the first drinks that Darla had taught her how to make. A fair price for the English lessons, she had called it, and Maggie is inclined to agree.

“Here.” she calls out, giving the drink a final toss, and sliding it across the bar towards Luthor before she can think better of it.

Luthor looks up, startled. 

“I didn’t-” she begins, but Maggie waves away the words.

“It’s on the house.” She gives the bar another glace. No one seems to be looking for anything, and no fights seem to be on the verge of breaking out, so Maggie figures that she’s owed a bit of a break. “Not your standard fare, Ms. Luthor, but Rohltikon whisky is one of those things that  _ everyone _ has to try in their lifetime.”

“Lena.” Luthor murmurs.

Maggie raises her eyebrows, before nodding.

“Lena. Got it.” She can understand that. There had been a couple of years in high school when she hadn’t been all that thrilled about  _ Sawyer _ being called out at every roll call.

Lena takes a tentative sip of the drink, and Maggie can see the exact moment it hits, by the way her eyes widen. For a moment, Maggie wants to second-guess her judgment - Luthors are probably used to top-shelf stuff - but Lena smiles, and downs half the glass in a second, prolonged sip.

“Pretty good.” she says, at the end of it, and then, “Is the pay for cops that bad in this city, that you have to supplement it with bartending tips?”

Somehow, Maggie isn’t surprised at the question. She’s fast getting a feeling that Lena is not the kind of person that many things slip by. 

“Just paying back a debt to a friend.” she replies with a shrug. She looks around at the bar again, anticipating the arrival of the happy hour groups, and an idea occurs to her, as she spots the wispy figure stooped over a drink at the other edge of the counter. Maggie smiles.

“Ivan!” she calls out. 

Ivan looks up - and their full name isn’t Ivan, Maggie vaguely remembers, but some multi-syllabled mystery that evades the vowel-consonant system of most extant Earth languages - and acknowledges her call with a whistly sigh. They come here often, but Maggie has never seen them mingle, except on the rare game night.

“Found a game buddy for ya.” Maggie calls, cocking a head at Lena. Ivan floats over obligingly.

“How do they move with no legs or locomotive force?” Lena asks, sounding fascinated, staring at the apparition-like figure approaching her. “And how are they making those sounds without vocal cords?”

Maggie shrugs, trying not to let herself have second thoughts about this. She pulls a board game out from behind the counter, and places it between Lena and the alien newcomer. 

“Ivan loves this game.” she tells Lena. “Their planet’s version of chess. Someone like you should be able to pick it up easy.”

Lena looks at Ivan, who’s reaching for the game pieces with wispy hands, and making a sound like steam whistling. Then she shrugs, and gestures at them to lay out the board.

Satisfied, Maggie wanders back to the growing line at the bar. She keeps a idle ear on the pair while she serves the new wave of patrons. At first Lena seems to be losing quite handily, judging from the pleased hums emanating from Ivan.  


By the fourth game though, Maggie hears almost nothing. She looks back at the two, to see Lena with a curious smile on her face, and Ivan deadly silent, both of them poring over the board with furious concentration.

“Not as bored now.” Maggie murmurs, as she passes by their game in order to take down a bottle of scotch requested by a patron.

Lena’s reply is almost absent-minded, her eyes still focused on the board. “Looks like I’m learning a lot of interesting things today.”

Maggie smiles briefly in reply, turns back to the bar as another patron approaches, and find herself taking a step back, when confronted with the knowing smirk of James Olsen, who motions silently towards Lena, and whispers a “nice!” at Maggie.

“You done for the night?” she asks him, as she clears out the stray glasses from the counter.

“Almost.” James says, and lifts his camera one final time, pointing it somewhere behind Maggie. 

She turns around just in time to catch the surprised faces of Lena and Ivan, as the flare of the lens illuminates them.

Ivan merely makes a surprised noise, but Maggie can see Lena take a deep breath, and open her mouth, as it to protest. James stalls her, though.

“Don’t worry.” he says, walking over and staring curiously down at their game. “That one was for you. I won’t be printing it.”

Lena looks down at the table, following his gaze, to the pieces scattered on it. When she looks up again, Maggie sees determination and defiance and hope warring on her face, all at once.

“No.” she says, and Maggie notes that her fingers are trembling slightly, as they caress one of the game figures, “Print it if you like.”

\---

**Friday, 9pm**

“No explosions.” Tyler declares into her headset. “No gunfire. Looks like we might make it out unscathed this time.”

“We’re not out of the woods yet.” Maggie murmurs back, looking back at the podium where Lena is ascending, to make her much-anticipated announcement to round off the night. 

This is it. This is what two sleepless nights of preparation will boil down to. They’ve got twice the security detail on the premises now, thanks to the publicized attack at the runthrough two days ago. That doesn’t stop Maggie from worrying though, especially now, at the crux of the night.

She doesn’t intend to listen to Lena’s speech. That’s not what she’s here for, and it would only interfere with her job, Maggie knows. She’s on crowd control, though, and it’s hard to tune out the confident voice that blares out over the loudspeaker’s around the park, ringing with conviction and charisma.

“My goal for taking L Corp public, was to build a company that helps people, and nurtures a strong community. The original purpose of the Alien Lifeform Detection device was exactly what the name implied, but I’ve come to realize it can be so much more than that. This device can not only identify people of non-Earth origin, it can also provide information about their anatomy and genetic makeup, that can be invaluable in emergency situations.”

Maggie can hear a murmur of surprise go up from the crowd, as reporters look down in confusion at their notes. Whatever they must have been previously briefed on, this is clearly not it.”

“I’m proud to announce that we will be donating the first production run of these devices to every hospital in National City, for use in their emergency care units. This device can give doctors vital and hard-to-find information about alien patients, that can help with transfusions, allergen detection, and emergency operating procedures.”

There is definite confusion among the press now, although Maggie can see the more adroit reporters live-tweeting this new information on their phones, even as Lena continues.

“Of course, we know that deployment of this device is tricky, and consent is an important concern.” 

Lena pauses and seems to look out iton the crowd for a moment, smiling as she spots something. 

“That is why L Corp will be working together with the Agency for the Longterm Understanding and Resettlement of Aliens, an organization dedicated to outreach towards the alien community in National City, in order to ensure ethical deployment of this device. We are humbled to learn from their experience in this matter, and look forward to working on this with them.”

Maggie breathes a sigh of relief as Lena steps down from the platform. That had been the moment of greatest risk. If anyone had wanted to make a big statement, it would have been during Lena’s speech.

Still...Maggie scans over the crowd again, unable to quite let down her guard. Still no unusual activity anywhere, other than the excitement of the press. There’s nothing but the usual check-ins coming into her headset, either, from the officers guarding the perimeters.

She doesn’t truly relax until two hours later, however, when the last chair has been folded up and put away, and Lena has been bundled out of the park by her company’s security guard.

“Hey, Sawyer!” Tyler calls over, when the last of the cleanup is over. “Bunch of us are heading out to the bar. Come with?”

Maggie registers the invite with faint surprise, followed by a tinge of regret.

“I’m good.” she replies, fumbling around for an excuse when he frowns slightly. “Got some overdue paperwork at the station I need to take care of.”

“Suit yourself.” he shrugs, and slings an arm around one of his squadmates as they make their way back to the van. Maggie watches them leave, joking easily with each other.

She had learned to work with people for the sake of the job, sure. Even learned to make small talk. But the feeling of easy camaraderie, of falling into an orbit with another person? That eludes her, as it always has.

Then, Maggie remembers sprinting together towards an iron door, surrounded by a hail of fire. She remembers Alex’s body slamming on top of hers, shielding her from the blast of Lord’s makeshift bomb. She remembers moving in tandem with Alex to shoot down the weapons firing at them, and as she starts up her bike and charts her way home, Maggie wonders if that’s still the case.

\---

There’s some waiting outside of Maggie’s apartment when she walks in, seated by the door and thumbing her way down a phone screen.

“Kara.” Maggie says. She pauses, struck silent by the mix of emotions rising to her throat.

“I know, I know, no breaking into people’s houses.” Kara says sheepishly as she looks up, as if that isn’t the farthest thing on Maggie’s mind. “But, I thought you’d want a check-in after Wednesday’s event.”

And Maggie had known, logically, that the other woman must have survived the attack. The lack of flesh evidence had attested to that. Seeing Kara in person, though, brings an overwhelming sense of relief that leaves her half-surprised at herself.

“You’re alright.” she says, getting the obvious out of the way. “What happened to you? Where did you go?” 

Kara shrugs, looking embarrassed. 

“Took off early.” she says, and Maggie has undergone training to spot the signs of lying, sure, but she doesn’t need it to clock how Kara glances away and avoids her eyes as she speaks.

She opens the door the apartment, waves Kara through, and locks it after them, before she pursues the subject.

“Tell me you weren’t involved in the fracas.” she says.

“I wasn’t involved in the fracas.” Kara repeats obediently.

“That’s a damn lie.”

“Did you analyze the weapons they left behind?” Kara asks.

_ How did you know they left weapons behind, in the woods? _

“Got some interesting information off of them.” Maggie says aloud. “Major crimes is following through on some leads as we speak. Any tips you want to pass on to me?”

Kara looks frustrated. 

“I’m following through on my end, too.” she admits. “But, I think it’s bigger than we assumed it would be. I’ll pass on what I find, I promise. We’re ...all of us...going to need to work together to stop them.”

Maggie doesn’t quite understand this foreboding statement, for all that Kara’s face is an open book. But it also seems right to nod, if only to stay in the good graces of someone who has proven herself to be an ally.

She turns the TV on as Kara settles herself into the sofa, flips to the news channel as usual, and finds what she had expected: highlights from the press conference running on a thirty-minute loop, interspersed with commentary from other interested parties. 

She remembers Kara’s pointed questions at the runthrough, and Lena’s mention of the organization that Kara works for.

“That was your doing, wasn’t it?” Maggie asks, quietly. “Her complete 180 on that device?”

Kara’s initial expression is one of surprise, but it quickly turns to embarrassment under Maggie’s study.

“That was all her.” she says. “Lena has always had a different view from the rest of her family, I’m sure.”

“Doesn’t mean that she didn’t need someone else to give her a push.” Maggie says. “Or point out some blind spots to her.”

Kara smiles, and looks proud, but also self-conscious.

“There are things I need to tell you.” Maggie says. She ignores the alarm bells in her head, forces herself to remember that Kara has done nothing but help so far. “Things about Alex.”

Kara presses forward, almost falling off the couch in her eagerness. 

“Tell me.” she pleads. “Please.”

“Just a second.” Maggie says. “Let me get you a snack.”

“Oh, you don’t need t-” Kara begins, but Maggie is already pulling out a drawer.

“Here.” she tosses a couple of chocolate bars to Kara, before the latter can go through the five stages of grief over Maggie’s eating habits again. 

“I thought you were into that healthy stuff.” Kara says, wolfing down half a bar and speaking through it.

Maggie shrugs. 

“Thought you might be coming by.” she says. 

Kara draws herself up expectantly, still munching, and Maggie begins. 

It is easier this time around, because she had anticipated this, and had prepared notes in advance, helping her to avoid classified information, and convey what she thinks Kara needs to know. Kara makes it easier too, prodding when she needs further information, but otherwise remaining patient when Maggie struggles to convey something, even though Maggie can see her fingers involuntarily flexing in eagerness.

“She must have had good reason.” Kara bursts out, in a rare interruption, when Maggie gets to the part about where Alex had almost killed the Braxians who had kidnapped Aran.

Maggie pauses. She can’t sanction murder, and yet-

“I discovered later that they had priors.” she finds herself saying. She had checked into their records, afterwards, acting on a hunch that M’gann wouldn’t have given up fellow off-worlders without just cause. “Murder of a homeless Corillian kid. Charges got dropped, because it’s not like people give a shit, in this city. Brutalized an older Phorian couple too, because they’d got wind of some kind of money-laundering operation going on in their house, and wanted in. The wife never walked right again. Small stuff in the long-term view, maybe, but I think Alex knew about it.”

It doesn’t justify Alex’s actions, Maggie knows, and she thinks Kara knows it too, by the resigned look on her face. But maybe it helps Maggie to understand Alex a little better, that she’d be willing to murder someone like that, to bear the blood on her hands, so that the world could be rid of them.

And maybe that’s dangerous, because Maggie doesn’t want to understand Alex, and she certainly doesn’t want to sympathize with her.

So she shrugs the feeling off, and continues with her recollections, to the interview at the station, to the underground passage to Lord’s hiding place, to the way Alex had thrown herself over Maggie to protect her.

“That sounds like her.” Kara says, and her eyes are shining.

As the story winds down and Kara prepares to leave, Maggie glances back at the muted TV, and does a double take at seeing Lex Luthor’s face on screen. She doesn’t know why she’s surprised. Of course the network anchors would have wanted to squeeze the most drama out of Lena’s press conference, by appealing to her brother’s point of view on the whole thing. Maggie turns the volume up, more out of morbid curiosity than anything else.

“-sister’s views don’t change the fact that undocumented aliens have caused a lot of damage in the world.” Luthor is saying, as the news anchor watches with an impassive face. “Have we forgotten what happened right there in National City only two years ago, Mabel?”

The news anchor obligingly - and Maggie swears, she doesn’t know why all these networks keep bending over for the man like this one moment, then acting appalled over his statements the next - plays the footage of the night he’s referring to. 

The video is jarring from the start. The screams and gunfire ring loudly in the silence of the apartment, and the lights and fire are almost dizzying in their brightness. And, in the middle of the screen, haloed by brightness, a floating apparition shoots laser beams out of her eyes, threatening to burn an already arid city to cinders.

Maggie sighs, and moves to turn the TV off, but Kara’s hand on her wrist stays her. She turns inquiringly, but Kara doesn’t say anything, just tugs insistently until Maggie puts the remote down. Her gaze is glued to the screen, taking in the night of devastation, as if unable to take her eyes off it.

The devastation caused by Supergirl.

Maggie doesn’t know exactly what had triggered it. She had only known that one day, the same superhero that had saved firemen from burning ships and kittens stuck up trees with equal alacrity, had turned on the city’s people, leaving seemingly senseless swathes of destruction in the wake of her anger. 

At that time, the most she had known was that a super was on a rampage, and that she, along with more than half the NCPD’s active officers, had been hailed to the downtown core to mitigate the effect. There had been so much smoke, and fire, and confusion. Most of the officers, including her, had been too occupied just with clearing the streets and getting people to safety.

Not that any of them had been much help, in the end. When the smoke had cleared, it had been the military that had done the deed, and the memory of it still threatens to make Maggie’s stomach roil, in more ways than one.

“That wasn’t a good night.” Kara says.

Maggie watches the footage of cars flying in the air, the minor explosions, people fleeing to get out of the way of the military vehicles rushing to the scene.

“Heard it wasn’t exactly her fault.” she mutters, though damned if she can figure out why she feels the need to justify the actions of someone she’s never met, through a reasoning that she has only heard rumours of, and which she doesn’t fully understand.

“She almost killed somebody.” Kara says in response. “She  _ would _ have killed somebody, if she hadn’t been stopped.”

Maggie opens her mouth automatically, to defend the indefensible, but stalls when she registers the tone that the words were spoken with. Not with anger or hatred, with but with a judgment that defies subjective justifications.

On the television, the screen switches back to Luthor’s smug face, and Maggie mutes its again, as Kara kneels down to retie the laces of her left shoe, which seems to have come loose when she had shifted around on the sofa. 

“Why does it matter to you?” Maggie finds herself asking.

She watches Kara’s fingers steadily loop the laces through each other, then pull them together, before tying the knot. When Kara speaks again, it feels like an age had passed.

“I heard she was close to someone.” she says conversationally. “Someone who taught her everything she knew about being a hero. Someone who would have gone to the ends of the earth to save her.”

She lifts herself back up off the floor with an easy grace, pushing off with the palm of her hands.

“Heard they took it pretty bad when she died.” she finishes.

Maggie wonders, with some amusement and no small degree of frustration, why it is that no matter which city her job takes her to, she manages to fall in with people whose cache of secrets could put the Borgias to shame.

“None of that answers my question.” she says.

Kara looks momentarily stymied, and from her face, it looks like she’s already regretting the admissions she had made. Maggie wonders if they’d been shared because Kara had wanted Maggie to hear them, or because she had wanted to say them to someone, and Maggie had just happened to be there.

“But it was the truth, wasn’t it?” she prods, when Kara’s silence continues.

“A part of it.” Kara replies in a drawn out tone, looking visibly conflicted. 

Perhaps Maggie should push, to see if Kara will reveal anything else. It’s what a good detective would do. 

Doing so might break the fragile bond of trust that seems to have risen up between them, though. That’s what Maggie tells herself, although it’s hard to deny that she’s also affected by the fact that Kara looks so vulnerable at the moment, obviously not in the state of mind to make sound judgements. 

“Kara, you look like you need some rest.” she says, good detective skills be damned. “How about you give it a night’s thought, and come by the station tomorrow, if you have anything else to tell me?”

Kara nods, and moves - almost runs, really - towards the door.

No, it hadn’t been the whole truth. But, as the door clicks shut behind Kara, Maggie thinks that it might have been the most important part of it.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter. Once again, sorry for the long wait! I think I'm going to stop promising quick updates, since I clearly can't deliver, and promise comprehensive ones, in which a lot of ground gets covered, instead :P
> 
> As well, a friend suggested that I mention this, to stave off disappointment in the future. As you've noticed, this fic is Sanvers, but it has Karolsen as a side pairing. It's going to stay that way to the end. That's not a plot point, so I'm just stating that straight out, right now, so that no one thinks I'm baiting them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie and Alex make headway in their search for the database, and Maggie learns some things about Alex in the process.

“Is she dead?”

“No, tía.”  Maggie says into her phone, as she rounds the corner of the Science Division department and heads towards the exit, ready to punch out of an unusually quiet graveyard shift.

“Does she need to be dead?”

Maggie rubs her eyes, and resists the urge to sigh.

“No.” she says. “It was kind of my fault that Emily broke up with me.”

She feels a twinge of guilt over the qualifier she had tacked onto that admission, but it doesn’t seem to register on the other end.

“If she needs to be, just let me know.” Her aunt sounds quite serious over the phone, for a retired nurse who can barely reach five feet with slippers.

“No one needs to die.” Maggie says, getting a couple of amused looks from some fellow officers coming in for the morning shift. “I have to go, tía. I’ll call you tonight as usual.”

She ends the call after her aunt’s reply comes through, and makes a beeline for the breakroom, fighting to keep her eyes awake, and registering only belatedly that Captain Rivera is in there.

“Morning, Sawyer.” The captain remarks, passing Maggie her usual mug. “Ready to head out?”

“In more ways than one.” Maggie replies. She takes an automatic sip, and pauses.

“This is _hot._ ” She states, the words almost accusatory.

The captain shrugs, pointing behind Maggie, to the brand new machine sparkling on the counter.

“I _did_ say I would put in for a new one.”

Maggie hums in acknowledgment, inhaling the aroma from her mug, as she leans against the breakroom counter. Then, the warning signs get through to her exhausted brain, and her eyes snap open.

“Oh, no.” She says.

“Need you to stay a bit late today.” The captain admits.

Maggie sucks in a sharp breath, half-amused. “I knew it.”

“Your testimony for the Sinclair case. Prosecution wants you back in for another runthrough of it.”

Maggie blinks, considers groaning, and instead downs the entire cup of coffee she’s holding in one go.

“What?” The captain asks, when Maggie finally turns pleading eyes on her. “You _don’t_ enjoy dressing up in a rib-squeezing outfit, and regurgitating the same thing over and over again, until some suit is satisfied at the tone of your voice?”

“I would rather run into live gunfire without tactical gear.” Maggie states.

“Sawyer.”

Maggie slopes her shoulders downwards, and holds her empty mug under the coffee machine once more.

“But, if it’ll be another step in making sure that Sinclair gets behind bars and stays there, _fine_.”

‘Good.” The captain passes Maggie the file that she had been holding. “Read this to refresh yourself on the case, before you go in to see Harris.”

Maggie opens it, and skims over her written testimony, the one she knows by heart, because she had committed every fact in the Sinclair folder to memory, over her months-long investigation of the woman.

“Do you think we’ll actually be able to lock her up?” She mumbles, as she lingers over a small timeline chart scribbled on the side of the file cover. “For good?”

“Between you and me?” The captain asks, glancing around the empty breakroom. “I’m surprised we even got this far, kid.”

Maggie nods, unsurprised.

“Now I know what the new coffeemaker was _really_ for.” She grumbles, and gets a warning glare in response as she walks off.

\---

 

It is late noon by the time Maggie exits the ADA’s office, and walks down to the small park by the station. The park is frequented by parents pushing strollers, couples lounging under trees on blankets, and - for the past week and change - by a figure dressed in an unseasonably thick coat, who seems to be reviewing some papers this time, as Maggie walks up to her.

“You’re late.” Alex says, without looking up, as Maggie approaches.

She frowns down at the sheets she’s perusing, the lines of her face curving over a new scar that Maggie hadn’t seen, when they had met the night before. There is a bouquet of yellow flowers at her side, the colour vivid against her black coat.

“I texted you.” Maggie sighs. “And cut me some slack. I’ve just been put through the paces by the toughest ADA in the state, so I think you can handle me being ten minutes late for our lunch date.”

Alex blinks and looks confused for a moment, but wordlessly moves over, so Maggie can join her on the bench.

“I’ve planned out our route.” She begins without further ado, when Maggie has settled herself. “I’ve calculated how deep underground the intrusion sensors in Lord’s storage vault are, and I’ve used that data to map out where I’m pretty sure the entrance is, judging by the density of the sensors around that area.”

“I’m doing well too, thanks.” Maggie mutters with some humour, leaning over to glance at the papers that Alex had been studying. “You realize that we’re both toast if your calculations are even a little off?”

“They won’t be.” Alex says, but the conviction in her voice is belied by the way she keeps going over the papers in her hand again, lips moving silently.

“Relax, nerd.” Maggie says. “I was just ribbing you. What happened here?”

She points at the scar running down Alex’s cheek as she says this, noticing from this angle that it runs all the way down her neck, disappearing under the collar of her jacket.

“Accident.” Alex replies, tone evasive.

“Willing to testify on the stand to that?”

“Over my dead body.” Is the bland reply Maggie gets.

“ _What happened,_ Alex?”

Alex winces.

“Had a run-in with a guy who wasn’t making payments on a blaster shipment I unloaded to him.” She says, voice almost a mumble.

She seems to curl up into herself, as Maggie takes a deep breath and looks away.

“In my defense, I built that set myself.”

Maggie sighs. _As if that doesn’t make it worse._

“Run me through the plan.” She says, although she knows it almost by rote already.

After the near disaster at the last storage vault, a week and a half ago, she had insisted that they plan the next excursion beforehand. By some miracle, Alex had agreed, and between late night meetings at coffee shops and Maggie stealing out to the park during breaks in her shift, they had planned out a course of action that Maggie is almost sure won’t get them killed.

Almost.

“Find entrance.” Alex starts, listing off with her fingers. “Activate shield, locate first sensor, disarm first sensor, rinse and repeat. An even clip should get us to the vault in about 30 minutes. Activate second shield, locate database, get the hell out of there. Sounds good?”

She looks at Maggie expectantly.

“On paper.” Maggie says, the admission grudging.

“Did you get clearance for using the shields?”

“I got the lab to lend me three brand new ones in exchange for a full field report.” Maggie says, taking the set out of her pocket. “Drawbacks, suggested improvements, all that.”

“I can help with that.” Alex says immediately. “To begin with, I would suggest using a denser alloy for the external shell. Something like-”

She reels off a list of words that don’t mean much to Maggie, who blinks and memorizes them nevertheless, so that she can relay the information to Tamika, the lab admin, afterwards.

“I’m going to get a grilling on how I would know something like that.” She says, when Alex finishes, her mini-lecture. “But I’ll pass it on.”

Alex nods, as if she expects nothing else.

“So, when’s go time?” Maggie asks.

“Tomorrow night.”

Maggie nods.

“About time.” The words pass her lips before her exhausted brain can filter them back, and she bites her tongue too late.

“Are you implying that I should speed this up?” Alex asks, eyebrows raised, and an edge entering her voice.

Denial is impossible, when Alex is looking at her with that pissed off but expectant look, and when the ordeal she had been dragged through by the ADA is still fresh on Maggie’s mind.

“Just...this is taking a bit longer than I expected it would.” she admits. “We were hoping to get somewhere with this case before Sinclair goes to trial. Get some good PR out there, before the jury gets chosen.”

Alex looks mutinous at that.

“I’ve been going through this as fast as I can.” She says, her tone just shy of condescension. “Do you even know what kind of equations I’ve had to come up with, just to get all these measurements set up?”

“Do _you_ know what the twenty most common traffic violations that motorcycle drivers in National City get cited for are?” Maggie retorts mildly.

Alex’s mouth snaps shut.

“If you’re in charge of issuing the tickets, I’m guessing the top spot is for parking in an undesignated spot, in a bar that you invited them to.” She replies, a moment later, and Maggie has to snort.

“Maybe I’m too impatient.” She admits, leaning back. “I feel like I’ve got too much on my plate, and losing track on what takes priority.”

Alex looks at her, eyes pensive, expression grim, before she raises a hand and traces a finger over Maggie’s face, flying over her cheekbones, and down her jawline.

“Is that why you look so tired all the time?” She asks quietly. “Is this” - a pause, as a soft thumb curves into the hollows under Maggie’s right eye - “because of me?”

Maggie turns to look at the park, at the soccer team playing a practice game, at the busy strollers, and Alex’s hand slides off of her face with the movement.

“I do my job; you do yours.” Maggie says. “You get scars; I get a few sleepless nights. Somehow, I think I got the better end of the deal.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Alex says, which Maggie thinks may be her way of telling Maggie not to worry.

“Who was it?” Maggie asks.

Alex raises her eyebrows.

“I’m not letting you arrest him, Maggie. And trust me, he looks worse.”

“Why do you do this?” Maggie finds herself asking. “Why this, when you’ve obviously got the brains to make something out of yourself?”

She tells herself that it’s out of frustration that she asks the question, out of indignation for the fourteen year old girl who had had to put everything she had into her studies, in order to earn her get-out-of-Nebraska card. The ghost of Alex’s finger lies cool on her cheeks, though, giving the lie to that justification.

“Never did all that well in school.” Alex replies.

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

“It wasn’t my environment.”.

Maggie lets it slide, and turns her attention back to the notes in Alex’s hand.

“Why don’t you come over to my apartment for the evening, and we can run through the plan one final time?” she asks.

Alex tenses, looking awkward, and Maggie has to bite back a sound of frustration, borne more out of sheer exhaustion than anything.

“What is it now?”

Alex looks likes her teeth are being pulled out, when she answers.

“It’s just...won’t your girlfriend be upset about the short notice?”

Maggie blinks.

“I _know_ you didn’t get that from whatever file you pulled up on me.” She says, after a while.

“I _wasn’t_ able to pull up your file.” Alex says, sounding disgruntled, and vaguely defensive. “I just had a look around your apartment when I dropped you off, that night when...that night at the warehouse. I got your address from your driver’s license, if you were wondering about that.”

Maggie rolls her eyes, considers making another comment about intrusive behaviour, but chooses to let that well-trod path go.

“That won’t be an issue anymore.” She says, “Your initial concern, I mean.”

She doesn’t elaborate, when Alex looks back inquiringly.

“I still can’t.” Alex says after a pause. “I have to make a visit today.”

She gestures at the bouquet next to her, and then seems to remember something.

“Oh, the city passed that new law banning them in the wards, didn’t they?” Maggie can hear her mumbling, almost too low to make the words out.

She looks somewhat upset, staring down at the flowers, the scar a vivid red against her neck.

“Text me if anything comes up.” Maggie prompts.

Alex huffs in a breath, seemingly shaken back to life.

“Will do.”

She leaves on that note, with a “See you around, Maggie.” floating over her shoulder, as she strides away.

Maggie turns back to the park, the soccer game catching her attention. She focuses on the ball, at how it’s passed between the players, and the patterns of their plays become apparent to her after a few minutes’ study.

It’s what makes her a good cop, she knows, being able to spot the connections between seemingly unrelated events. Her intuition jumping to conclusions, that she would later need to work through carefully, to prove or disprove. Conclusions that were more than often right, because certain patterns tended to play themselves out again and again, in the history of human drama. Put two and two, and more often than not, you got four.

It’s a rule that hasn’t led Maggie astray often, and she ponders it, as she stays seated on the park bench, feeling too fatigued to move.

\---

 

The sun is still high in the sky when Maggie finally heads out of the park, and she knows that she should go home, should rest before she has to head out for yet another midnight shift.

That would mean heading back to her apartment, though. Heading back to a place now completely devoid of Emily’s presence, of the proof that there had once existed another human being aside from her aunt who had cared whether Maggie came home late, whether she ate her meals on time, whether she lived or died.

Maggie finds herself routing her bike to Catco instead. James _had_ texted her the day before to come pick up the new issue of the magazine, with its article on M’gann’s bar.

Security waves her through to the top floor, almost as soon as Maggie flashes her badge and ID. She feels both flattered, and somewhat disgruntled, that James had obviously had the foresight to warn them of her coming.

James meets her himself with his usual lazy charm, tossing the magazine at her after a brief handshake. He leans against his desk as Maggie flips through it, past the editor’s note that now has James’ signature on it, to the article itself.

“The shots are nice.” She comments. Maggie Sawyer, incisive critic of the art of photography. “Tell a story all by themselves.”

James draws himself up at her inexpert praise, though, and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Gotta thank you for tipping me off to the bar.” He admits. “Helped me find some of the perspective that the series was lacking. I even met someone, this Cyvillian kid, that I’m looking to hire on as an intern here.”

Maggie shrugs, not entirely sure how to take that, and decides to go with the safest route of reply.

“Anytime.”

She looks curiously at the array of monitors behind him as she says this, and can’t help the involuntary grimace when what’s playing on one of the screens catches her eye.

“Not you too.” she protests, pointing at it. “It’s been more than a week since Luthor’s interview. Do they still have to keep playing that video?”

James looks behind him to check the screen she’s address, and back at this, his expression difficult to parse.

“I know you think the press is all sensationalism, Maggie.” he says, “But we can’t really avoid ever showing that. It did happen, and there’s no point in sweeping it under the rug. All we can do is put it in context.”

The context seems to be the other screens around the one Maggie is pointing at, playing scenes of Supergirl flying ambulances to emergency care centres, of her daring rescues...even the infamous one of her rescuing a pet snake from up a tree, all of it interspersed between past interviews about her with National City locals.

“I don’t how much good it has done, though.” Maggie insists, watching a video of a deli owner waxing poetic about the time that Supergirl had polished off ten of his sandwiches in under a minute.

James sighs.

“I don’t expect you to agree with me, Maggie.” He says. “The press and the police don’t see eye to eye often, and maybe that’s a good thing, because we don’t exist to satisfy you.”

Except, Maggie thinks to herself mutinously, she’s pretty sure that it’s not a cop’s perspective that she’s seeing it from right now, but there’s no point in insisting on that with James.

Something else strikes her, as her gaze is inevitably drawn back to the original screen.

“Was Catco filming the whole thing?”

James nods.

“News crew had production vans driving down to the scene as soon as they intercepted the radio alerts.”

“So you filmed even the part where-” Maggie pauses, “Even the part where they-”

“Right down to the kill shot.” James says, a wry smile on his face, though it looks somewhat twisted. “Presses don’t stop for anything.”

They could agree on that, at least, Maggie thinks with some internal amusement. If the apocalypse was nigh, a Catco reporter would be out there trying to get an interview with the Four Horsemen.

“Thanks for the magazine.” she says, waving it by way of a peace offering. “Looking forward to reading the whole thing.” Surprisingly, not a lie.

James nods peaceably, and Maggie takes the cue to exit, looking backwards at the monitors one final time. They consume her final thoughts as she leaves, so that she would have failed to notice the person waiting in front of the office, in a chair situated a little off to the side, were it not for her trained habit of automatically cataloguing everything in her peripheral vision.

She backtracks as soon as her brain registers that unmistakeable clash of blonde hair and fuschia cardigan, though, just as Kara is standing up to go into James’ office.

Maggie steps in her way.

“For someone who just landed a contract with the biggest company in the city.” She tells Kara by way of greeting, “You sure spend a lot of time dawdling about places where you’re not expected to be.”

Kara puts her hands up, looking like a deer in headlights.

“My boss is the one handling the project with L Corp.” she says, somewhat frostily, “ _I’m_ just here to take my boyfriend out on a lunch date.”

“ _Really_.” Maggie states, something - some over-developed cop instinct, maybe - nagging at her. “At this exact place, at the exact time that I’m here.”

“Well, it’s his break time, and he works here.” Kara says shrugging, “Where was I supposed to pick him up, the Daily Planet?”

She laughs, as though she’s said something funny, and Maggie is opening her mouth to ask what, when James emerges from his office.

“Kara!”

He gives her a small peck on the lips, before turning to Maggie.

“I was going to say meet my girlfriend.” He says, looking down at Maggie’s folded arms, and Kara’s still out-stretched hands. “But I guess that’s not necessary.”

“Small world.” Maggie mutters.

James looks at her with the mildly pleasant expression on his face that Maggie has fast come to understand belies a lot of careful thought, but Kara looks downright mulish, as she studies Maggie with knit brows, as if not quite understanding something.

“I’m going to get my coat.” James says, after another quick look between the two of them. “It looks a bit breezy out there today.”

“I had better get going.” Maggie tells Kara curtly, as he disappears back into his office. She makes to move past Kara, but Kara’s hand on her arms stops her.

“I saw you.” Kara says abruptly, “At the park.”

Maggie raises her eyebrows, but doesn’t answer, wondering why it suddenly feels like she’s being put on trial, like she had better keep her mouth shut until she finds a lawyer.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with her lately.” Kara says.

It’s clear that she’s trying to make it sound like a simple observation, but it comes out sounding more like an accusation, and Maggie can feel her own hackles rising in response.

“Just doing a bit of a recon on a case.” She replies, and can’t resist adding a somewhat edgy, “Is there a problem?”

Kara shrugs, wrapping her arms around her torso, and frowning at the ground.

“I just thought-” she stops, and then starts again, “When I put you on to her, I was kind of hoping you’d be able to restrain her, not egg her on.”

“I don’t think Alex is the kind of woman to be egged on.” Maggie says, “And as for restraining her, I have about as much a chance of doing that, as I have of running the rack at pool.”

Kara looks confused for a moment, before waving the words away.

“I can’t have you putting her in more danger, Maggie.” She says.

“I think Alex brought that on herself when she chose her career.” Maggie points out.

Kara huffs, and seems to gathering herself up for another line of argument, but Maggie checks her watch to head her off.

“I have to stop by the station before the captain punches out.” She says, then hesitates and offers a parting olive branch. “I can’t force Alex to do or stop doing anything, but I will always keep you in the loop, and let you know if anything happens.”

Kara doesn’t look particularly impressed by that offer, and opens her mouth as if to argue some more. She snaps it shut though, after another look at Maggie’s face, which Maggie is sure has exhaustion written all over it.

“Thank you.” Kara mumbles, reaching out and patting Maggie’s arm awkwardly. “I just-I worry about her.”

Maggie resists the instinctive reply that comes to her lips, nods instead, and heads towards the doors she had entered through, feeling not quite satisfied with the encounter.

\---

 

“You do know that your payback shifts are over?” M’gann asks that night, at the bar, when she finds Maggie absentmindedly polishing a glass with her jacket sleeve, while she huddles over the counter.

Maggie takes her hand away sheepishly, and M’gann laughs, but not unkindly.

“That kind of a day, huh?” she asks, snagging a tall glass from the cabinet.

Maggie shrugs and nods.

“The usual?” M’gann asks Maggie. “On the house, because you stayed past your shift to clean up last time.”

“Please.” Maggie says gratefully, and M’gann nods in acquiescence, taking down a bottle of Jack.

“Looks like your friend is getting pretty popular.” she mentions casually, as she fills half the glass with the whisky, chased down by a can of soda.

Maggie glances to her left, where Lena Luthor is playing host at the pool table, no James to accompany her this time. She doesn’t seem to be conversing much, intent on the cue, but every now and then Maggie has heard a cheer go up from the table, as she makes a particularly difficult shot.

“Didn’t realize she was becoming a regular here.” she says, too tired to really care.

“Hey.” M’gann says, handing the drink over, “At least it takes the heat off you. You’re not the celebrity that took down Roulette anymore.”

Maggie scowls.

“That’s what I come to this bar for, the anonymity.”

“And here I thought it was for the excellent company.” M’gann says, before wandering away to serve an approaching patron.

Maggie scowls again, and has finished off half the drink - which M’gann has diluted with the soda to more than her usual preference, she notes - before M’gann returns.

“How _is_ Roulette doing?”

“ _Veronica_ is in the finest holding cell money can buy.” Maggie replies. “Although, she might not be there long, if her team of around-the-clock lawyers get their way.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they do.” M’gann replies.

“I’m hoping James’ articles will get some publicity out about what she was trying to do.” Maggie confesses. “Influence the public perception, and all that.”

M’gann makes a noise that could have been acceptance.

“People like Roulette have a lot of power.” Is all she says, however.

She seems to hesitate, before continuing.

“I almost got caught up in her machinations, myself.”

Maggie looks up in surprise. M’gann looks a little twitchy, and her eyes are roving around the bar instead of meeting Maggie’s own.

“Couple years ago, Fran - the old owner, you remember her stopping by a few times? - she retired. Didn’t have anyone else to pass the business on to, but a developer had been nosing around the place, and she was seriously considering his offer. I was just a part-time bartender here at that time, but I thought, all these people, coming here night after night...they wouldn’t really have anywhere else to go, you know?”

She _does_ know, Maggie reflects, as she nods at M’gann to continue.

“Well, I’m not exactly the kind of person the banks are willing to underwrite, but in steps this lady, dressed to the nines, and she’s willing to pony up for the mortgage, below-prime interest rate and all. Just one catch - she wants me to show up at this shindig of hers, couple of times a month, won’t really elaborate on it much before I sign an NDA.”

“ _Fuck.”_ Maggie whispers, her mind racing ahead to where this is inevitably going.

M’gann nods.

“Except I knew what it was.” she admits. “I knew, and I still considered it, and I’m pretty sure I would have taken the offer, if not for - if I hadn’t-” she stops suddenly.

Maggie waits, partly out of cop instinct, and partly out of concern for her friend.

M’gann looks up, and there’s a curious smile on her face, that makes Maggie blinks at the uncharacteristicbrightness of it.

“I got help from unexpected quarters, so I never had to take Sinclair up on the offer.”

“Drink to that.” Maggie says wearily. “That’s one less alien in her clutches.” And her favourite alien too, she thinks privately.

M’gann smiles again, though it slides off quickly, her face returning to its grave set.

“I tried to warn the people here to stay away from her. Didn’t always work out, though.”

She looks up suddenly.

“I know it’s a long shot to put Veronica away, but you know you _had_ to try, even it didn’t work out, right?”

“I guess.” Maggie says, more out of the expectation of the reply than anything, although she can’t help but feel a little better, despite the fact that the words hadn’t exactly been reassuring.

M’gann nods, and goes back to answer the call of another patron, leaving Maggie alone to ponder the kind of what-ifs that can only be found late in the night, at the bottom of an empty glass.

\---

 

Maggie spends the entirety of her shift the next day in anticipation of the coming mission, but something in her grows calm as soon as Alex pulls up to meet her at the station at the end of her shift.

Alex drives them to the desert as planned, to the place that her calculations had pointed out to be the entrance to the second of Lord’s storage vaults. She seems tense, perhaps dreading what could be yet another dead end in a months-long search, but Maggie feels only the thrill of the chase.

“Aren’t you dressed a bit lightly?” Alex asks, as they get out of the van. “The desert gets pretty cold at night.”

Maggie looks down at the regulation issue NCPD jacket that she tossed over her tactical outfit.

“I’m Nebraskan.” she says. “I’m _baking_ in this.”

“Suit yourself.” Alex shrugs, looking bemused. She’s wearing the same thick coat from the night before, Maggie notes with some amusement.

“Are you sure this is the area where we’ll find the entrance?” she asks, looking around. For miles all around, all she can see is barren desert.

Instead of answering, Alex stalks around a rectangular area on the ground, dragging her feet to mark it.

“According to my calculations, this is where it should be.” she says.

Maggie shrugs, and hunkers down beside the directed area.

“Good thing you thought to bring gloves.” she says, as she scrabbles away at what seems to be an endless heap of hard-packed sand at first..

As they work away, the faint outlines of a metal door becomes visible, spurring them on. Maggie scrabbles around the edge of the outline, ripping away the sand and sparse plant-life that’s crept around it. From the other side, Alex follows suit, until they’re staring at a mostly bare metal door, rusted and almost rotting from exposure.

Maggie takes hold of it from one side, and tries to jiggle it loose. It won’t budge.

“Help me.” she grunts, and feels Alex grasp it from the other end. The door isn’t as much heavy, as it is stuck into debris covering it. After struggling with it for a few minutes, jolting it back and forth, they finally bring it loose, shifting it to the side.

Maggies peers down into the darkness, unable to make anything out.

“Some kind of cave.” she guesses, kicking down a few pebbles. It seems to be pretty deep, judging by the pause before she hears the impact.

She looks up at Alex.

“Is this what you expected, Nancy Drew?”

“More or less.” Alex says, shrugging, and then. “I loved those books. My sister and I used to fight over who got to read them first, when we got them out of the library.”

Maggie looks at her expectantly, but Alex doesn’t say anything further, and her face is hidden as she rifles through her bag, as if double-checking the contents.

Maggie shines her flashlight down into the cave in the meanwhile, and the first thing that catches her eyes are the metal rungs built into the side of the cave.

“I’ll go down first.” Alex says authoritatively, when she points this out.

Maggie doesn’t bother arguing. Alex seems impatient, taking the rungs two at a time, but Maggie waits until Alex is well on her way before climbing down herself, in a slower fashion. She can hear Alex laugh, when she reaches the bottommost rung and jumps off, but Maggie doesn’t realize why until she gets there.

The rungs stop before they reach the ground, close enough to the ground for a man of above-average height to jump down easily, and for Alex to make the jump with little difficulty.

Maggie, though, is going to have some trouble.

She looks down, to see Alex watching her with some amusement.

“Need a lift down?”

She sounds smug, standing there in the dim light of the underground bunker, arms outstretched, dust covering her cheeks, and eyes sparkling with something more than simple levity. The joy of a long-term mission coming to a close, perhaps.

Maybe that’s why Maggie decides to do something she’s not prone to doing in the line of duty: she shows off a little.

She braces her legs against the rungs, and launches herself towards the other side of the cave, hitting it with both hands, then spinning and pivoting down, so that she lands on the ground next to Alex.

“In your dreams.” she says, only a little winded from the exertion, into Alex’s slightly wide-eyed face.

Alex recovers fast, and nods as if in acceptance, before turning towards the passage leading to the underground vault.

She pauses a few steps in, however, and turns back.

“Remember your end of the deal.” she says, taking a piece of paper out of a side pocket in her bag. “The database needs to get into the right hands.”

“Can’t that wait?” Maggie asks.

Alex shrugs, and tilts her head expressively at the darkness ahead of them.. “Who knows what’s going to happen in there? Better to plan ahead.”

Maggie takes the paper with the contact information. She means to give it a cursory once-over, but the familiar name scrawled on it makes her pause, before she tucks it away into a pocket on her vest.

“Just identify yourself as NCPD, and tell her what you’ve got.” Alex instructs. “She’ll recognize it for what it is.”

“Got it.” Maggie says, and then, slowly. “You... didn’t tell me you wanted to give the database to a fed.”

Alex’s head snaps back towards her, and Maggie can hear the automatic denial rising to her lips.

“Susan Vasquez.” Maggie repeats the name that had been scrawled on the note. “She’s FBI, isn’t she? I’ve met her before, on a case.”

“That’s not possible.” Alex says. She sounds profoundly confused, a first in their interactions so far.

“Why would I lie?” Maggie asks. There’s something there, some awareness of something deeper going on, that tugs at her mind, but she resists pursuing that train of thought. Their mission here is to find the database, and she needs to focus on that.

“Let’s just get this over with.” she suggests, when Alex still doesn’t move, continuing to stare at her in puzzlement.

Alex nods jerkily , taking out two identical sets of tools that they had assembled to disarm the sensors, and handing one to Maggie.

“Ready?” she asks.

“As I’ll ever be.”

It’s faster this time, because they have it planned down to a science, knowing exactly where the sensors will come up, and how to disarm them. It isn’t long before the entrance to the vault is before them.

Alex unlocks the door with the same device that she had used previously, and they find themselves staring into a room even larger than the previous one they had broken into. Maggie doesn’t have long to inspect it, however, before she’s ducking against the side of the entrance, trying to shoot down the motion sensors inside from the awkward angle, before the grace period of the alarm runs out.

They get almost all of them, although one fires a shot that grazes past Maggie’s shoulder before she takes it down, and she hears Alex grunt and stumble from the other side, as if she had been hit too.

Alex is back on her feet by the time the dust clear, but her face is pale. She waves away Maggie’s inquiring look, and motions her inside.

The inside of the vault is a treasure trove, one that Maggie wagers one of the lab rats at the NCPD lab would have gladly given their right arm to rifle through. She’s briefly amused that most of it means nothing to her, though.

Alex walks towards one side of the vault, dividing her half with a sweep of her hand.

“Dibs on this side.” she says. “You remember what we’re looking for?”

“Couldn’t forget if I tried.” Maggie replies absent-mindedly, still distracted by the futuristic technology arrayed all around her.

Not really her area of interest, and yet, there are a few things here that entice even her. In one rectangular case she unlocks, there’s a modified long-range rifle, designed to be mounted on the shoulders, from the look of it. There’s a set of gloves in another, that vibrate when Maggie brings her hands near them. She closes that one up quickly. And those long tube-ish things mounted on the wall, with buttons running along the side...those are surely some sort of firing device. Handheld cannons?

What kind of fear could Alex possibly inspire in a man like Maxwell Lord, that would cause him to abandon all this, and skip town? Surely, he _must_ have a plan for retrieving all this.

Finding herself falling down a rabbit hole of theorization, Maggie shakes herself, files away the curiosity, and proceeds looking around in the area that Alex had gestured at.

Fifteen minutes later, she gets up from the clutter, dusting off her pants. There are what looks to be a wide variety of storage devices in the collection, between all the weapons and contraptions, but nothing matching Alex’s description.

“Not around here.” she says, just as an exultant cry comes from Alex.

“Got it!” she says, and Maggie turns to see her holding up a hexagonal tube, her eyes shining in the dim light.

“Thought you said it’d look like a VCR.” Maggie comments, looking at the tube, which is twice the size of Alex’s hands in length, and easily a handspan wide.

“This is the projector hardware.” Alex says. “It goes along with the database program, as a sort of interactive display. I didn’t realize he had taken that with him too.”

Alex’s expression turns furious as she says this, and Maggie shrugs in confusion, watching her pry the casing apart with practised hands. It gives way with a crack, and Alex pulls out a rectangular box from the innards, which has makeshift ports attached to it with duct-tape, of all things.

“This is the hard drive that the database itself is stored in. I modified it to interface with human technology.”

Maggie reaches for the drive automatically.

“Now that we’ve got it, let’s go.”

“Hang on.” Alex reaches into the messenger bag slung over her shoulder, pulls out a small notebook computer and a USB stick.

“I’ll port the relevant information about the drug right now.” she says. “No point in waiting until after.”

She takes out a wire as well, connecting it from the notebook to the drive, and instructs Maggie to hold the drive as she does so.

Maggie takes it accordingly, and studies it with idle curiosity, as Alex taps away at the computer.

There is dust glinting on the box, illuminated to shining points by her flashlight. Out of habit, Maggie wipes it off with a sleeve, and stills, as she notes small runes carved on the bottom of the box. They’re oddly shaped, and she would have ignored them as a badly designed brand logo, if she had come across them in any other context, or if she had not recognized the very last shape in the row.  

“All done.” she hears Alex say, but Maggie is barely listening, fatigued brain engaged solely on slotting this new piece of information into place.

She traces the last of the runes, the one she recognizes. It’s distinctive, and Maggie has seen it countless times before, at souvenir shops in every city she’s done the beat in. It’s been engraved in key chains, strung across charm bracelets, stamped on bags-

-emblazoned on the chests of two of the most high-profile superheroes in the world.

A nameless alien database had been one thing, but how had Alex come into contact with something like _this?_

“Ready to go?” Alex asks, coming up behind her suddenly, moving so quietly that Maggie had not even noticed.

Maggie feels her entire body freeze, hands tilting the drive with deliberate ease, to keep the runes away from the light.

Alex is dangerous. With her hands, with her brain, and with her willingness to throw away the rules to protect what she considers her own. This much Maggie has known, since before she had come face to face with her. Until now, that knowledge had been filtered through the lenses of an uneasy partnership, their tentative truce giving Maggie some phantom mirage of safety.

Now, however, for the first time since they had met, Maggie feels something entirely new for the woman approaching behind her: fear.

She reaches behind her for the USB, and Alex places it in her hands, her smile faltering a little as she sees the blankness on Maggie’s face.

“We need to go.” Maggie finds herself saying, and her voice feels like it’s coming from far away, as she turns to gesture towards the exit.

Alex turns around accordingly, but pauses on her way out, looking back at Maggie with furrowed brows.

“What?” Maggie asks. Her heart won’t stop thundering, and it’s absurd, but she fears that Alex must surely hear it, in the perfect silence enveloping them.

“You look pale.” Alex notes. She raises a hand towards Maggie’s face, flicking a strand of hair out of the way and peering into her eyes concernedly. Somehow, it reminds Maggie of a doctor’s bedside manner, and feels grotesquely out of place here. “Is the air pressure getting to you?”

Maggie steps back instinctively, and Alex’s hand stills, freezing in mid-air.

“Let’s go.” Maggie repeats, and her voice feels detached from herself, as if she’s watching a performance played out by her own body.

Alex’s hand retreats, and she soundlessly leads the way out of the room and down the passage they had come through. Maggie trails behind, in control of herself just enough to keep silent, but not enough to trust herself to make pleasant small talk.

They reach the rung of makeshift ladders they’d climbed down, and Alex steps aside, arms coming up, as if offering to lift Maggie . Maggie doesn’t move.

“You first.” she tells Alex.

Alex gives her another odd look, but complies. Maggie waits until she’s a few rungs up, before making a running leap, catching the bottom rung and pulling herself up.

She climbs rung after rung mechanically, mind conflicted between the temptation to lash out at Alex, and confusion about how to proceed. It’s hardly a fast climb up the ladder, but she hasn’t even begun to proceed to make sense of everything she’s learned that night, before she’s outside in the desert night by Alex’s side, the humid air making it harder to breathe in her vest than it had been underground.

“On the bright side, we did get the database.” Alex comments, as they walk towards her parked van. “And this time, we didn’t even get shot at.”

She looks at Maggie hopefully, and Maggie gives a weak nod in return, turning her face away, and tugging at the passenger door of the van. Alex unlocks it for her, and Maggie gets in, trying not to feel like she’s entering a lion’s den willingly.

Perhaps, she wonders as they pull off, this is her lesson, for thinking she could handle something of this magnitude on her own. For thinking that she could go above the law, when she had been hired to uphold it. When she gets out of here, _if_ she gets out of here, the first thing she’ll do is march into Captain Rivera’s office with a written testimony of everything that had transpired in the past few months, since Kara had first tipped her off to the existence of a woman that dealt in offworld weapons.

“That was a badass jump.” Alex says, breaking her train of thought. Maggie notices that they’re back on the highway, speeding back towards civilization, towards safety.  “The one in the cave.”

Maggie considers maintaining her silence, feeling her calm veneer strain with every word Alex utters.

“Did ballet for a couple of years.” she mutters. Her mother’s idea. “Got me started on upper body training early, if nothing else.”

She can hear Alex stifle a snort.

“Guess there really is more to you cops than just pencil pushing.” Alex says, her tone lighter than Maggie has ever heard her.

There’s the breaking point.

“What the fuck, Danvers?” Maggie can hear herself say. Her left hand is clutching at her pager like a lifeline, and the right arm is propped up against the window, deliberately out of easy reach of her gun.

Alex seems to collapse in on herself, eyes on the road as her shoulders slump inward.

“I knew it.” she states, “I knew something was wrong.”

Maggie pulls the database out of her vest, and waves it in Alex’s line of sight.

“There were these runes carved at the bottom of this.” She says. “Pretty small ones. Maybe you didn’t notice them. Or maybe you’ve stared at them so often before, that it didn’t really occur to you that someone else would take note of them.”

Alex’s mouth twists wryly, as she maneuvers around a pothole.

“Is now the time to say that I wish you weren’t such a damned _cop_?” she asks.

Maggie doesn’t bother taking the bait. She brings the database back to herself instead, traces out the one letter of the group had caught her eyes.

“This is the Kryptonian alphabet.” she says, “That’s an “L”. But I think you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Alex still doesn’t look away from the road, but a familiar pain flashes across her face, that reminds Maggie of when they had talked of Krypton previously, many weeks ago.

“El.” she says faintly, giving the letter a slightly different inflection than Maggie hand. “The great house of El. It means ‘of the star’. That’s what the legends say, at least.”

“Why were you in possession of a Kryptonian database, Alex? A database from a planet that was supposedly destroyed? How could you even know about its existence?”

“It was _stolen_.” Alex says, “And I’m trying to get it back to where it belongs.”

“But you want me to give it to the FBI.” Maggie says slowly. “And you said that _you_ programmed it.”

Horror overtakes her, as she finally lets her mind speed ahead to the inevitable conclusion, the conclusion that some part of her had known was coming since Alex had given her the piece of paper with the FBI contact on it.

“See, I thought meant that one of your buddies pawned this off to you and you got it to work.”

She turns to look at Alex, who still won’t meet her eyes.

“But that wasn’t right, was it, Alex? That’s what I was _supposed_ to think, just like I wasn’t supposed to know that Vasquez works for the FBI.”

“She _doesn’t.”_ Alex says, but she looks trapped.  

“Liar.”

“You need to remember our deal, Maggie.” Alex repeats, insistently. “You’ll need to hand it over.”

Alex isn’t- Alex _can’t_ be.

And yet, it all makes a terrifying amount of sense. Alex’s oddly intimate knowledge of how the NCPD’s internal system works, how easily she had taken down Maggie at their first encounter and every single one afterwards, her occasional quips about the NCPD that had been eerily reminiscent of the timeless interservice rivalry...this explains all of that.

“Did they teach you all that fancy whiz programming at Quantico?” Maggie asks. “Before you betrayed them, I mean.”

“It’s not that simple.” Alex says, she sounds almost angry now, insulted.

“So explain.” Maggie insists, and right now, she feels like she’s willing to listen to any reason, _anything_ , other than the possibility that Alex might have committed treason...that _Maggie_ might have been abetting it.

“I can’t.” Alex whispers. “I _can’t_ , Maggie, and you promised.”

She sounds broken, but Maggie refuses to pay attention to that, doing instead what she should have done all those weeks ago, at the restaurant.

“Let me out.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere.” Alex finally turns to look at her, the muscles of her jew clenched. “I’m dropping you at the station.”

“Let me out, Alex.”

“It’s almost midnight, Maggie.”

_“Now.”_

The van cruises to a stop by the side of the highway, and Maggie exits. She checks the gun holstered to her belt, and the extra clips in her vest, before turning back to the car, to see Alex frowning at her.

Maggie musters a faint wave, barely hearing Alex telling her to “Be safe.” in return. Out of the corner of the vision, she registers Alex’s van turning back towards the highway, and as Maggie starts walking, the database feels impossibly heavy against her chest, as if all the knowledge contained within it is what’s weighing her down, rather the thin shell of metal and alien plastic.

She briefly considers hailing one of the cruisers patrolling the highway stretch to pick her up, but decides against it at the last minute. The stars are brighter than she’s ever seen them in the city, there’s a gun holstered at her hip, she’s still reeling from the revelations of the night, and the last thing she wants to do is to be making small talk with a fellow officer in the back of a squad car.

So Maggie trudges along the shoulder of the highway, trying to bring her thoughts into some semblance of order.

First, Alex.

How had she let herself be blinded like this, let herself be led astray by a pair of tragic eyes in an expressive face? Had convinced herself that there must be something more to this one criminal, out of all the others, than mere avarice?

She can appreciate the irony of it. For, there had been something more, all right. It just hadn’t been what Maggie had bargained for.

And yet, that’s not all that’s bothering her.

_Patterns. Two plus two._

Kara and Alex knowing each other.

James and Kara dating each other.

Kara, working for an organization dedicated to integration of alien refugees. An organization that Maggie had looked into, and found to have been set up only a year and a half ago.

Lena, the wild card, who seems torn between two worlds.

Kara, always Kara, at the center of it all, insinuating herself into places where she shouldn’t belong, until it seems like she has always been there, all along.

Maggie takes out her phone on a whim, and is already tapping the numbers to James’ cell before she remembers how late it is. She doesn’t hang up when she does, though.

“Maggie?” James’ groggy voice asks, when he picks up on the fourth ring.

“Remember our discussion yesterday, at your office?” she begins abruptly.

There is a long pause, and James seems to still be dragging himself out of sleep, as he replies.

“Yes...?”

“I need the video of that night.” Maggie says, without further ado. “All the footage you have, from every angle you shot in, in the highest resolution you’ve got available.”

There is a long pause before James replies.

“Couldn’t this have waited till tomorrow morning?”

Maggie bites her lip.

“It’s for an investigation.” she says eventually, unsure of how she wants to tell him. “I need it as soon as possible.”

Another long pause, but James sounds a lot more alert this time, when he talks, and Maggie can hear a faint familiar voice murmuring at the other end.

“I’ll need to talk with legal before I can release something like that.” James says. “If I can even find it.”

Maggie has no doubt that Catco has a state-of-the-art storage system, and that James could probably get hold of the footage almost immediately if he wished to, but she holds her tongue.

“I’d appreciate that.” she says instead.

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, let me know what legal says. Please”

“I will. Take care, Maggie.”

“...You too, James.”

She ends the call, and takes a deep breath.

_Two plus two._

Except, this time, Maggie is putting numbers together, and coming up with sums that don’t logically make sense.

\---

 

Maggie walks for the better part of an hour without interruption, the gun at her hip getting her wide berth, even if her oversized NCPD jacket covers the bulk of the tactical gear she’s wearing from view.

She’s less than half a block away from her apartment complex, a lot more tired and a little less confused, when it happens. Maggie’s fatigued steps falter under the light of a street lamp, and something moves in the near-darkness ahead of her, someone in clothing just a shade darker than the night they’ve taken cover in, so that Maggie has a moment’s warning, before they head for her.

Her gun is out in her hands by instinct, and she takes a quick look backward before moving out into the empty street, gun pointed in front of her at the advancing figure, safety still in place.

“NCPD, do not come any closer!”

Her warning goes unheeded, as her masked assailant stalks towards her at a deliberate pace, and _god,_ Maggie thinks with a sick feeling of dread, she really should have called for another officer to drive her home.

She unlatches the safety, considers firing a warning shot, decides against it, and goes for her pager instead. Before she can do more than take it out, she’s tackled from behind by a second attacker, hitting the ground with an impact that hurts more than usual, perhaps because of her current depleted state.

Her gun goes first, tossed out of reach first while experienced hands grab her own, twisting them behind her back with what feels like a zip tie, and sitting on her to prevent her from kicking up. She tries to pivot upwards with her shoulders instead, but a sharp jab at her neck arrests her movements, and another hand clamps around her throat a moment later.

Curiously, for a split second before the world goes dark, Maggie is reminded of Alex, and their first meeting at the warehouse.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the first half of a longer chapter but, as there was a natural break at the end of this half, I decided to post it early. Well, early for me :P That decision was also partly made because I've signed up to do art for the Sanvers Big Bang, and to write 2-3 fics for another ship week, so the next chapter might be out later than usual, due to those commitments.
> 
> I hope y'all like this chapter. We're getting to the middle part now, where all the reveals will be got out of the way, and most of the spoiler characters introduced, so that the action can proceed. I've gotten a few comments asking (well, some of y'all demanding :P) what's going on, and hopefully the next few chapters will get those questions fully answered. That's the plan, anyhow. Thank you as always for reading. I really appreciate it!
> 
> Oh, P.S: The did ballet for a few years was definitely a B99/Rosa Diaz reference ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious organization from the past rears its head, M'gann's bar gets attacked, and Alex and Maggie come to an impasse.

Maggie wakes up to bright lights, a ringing in her ears, and the ache of something undefinable in her chest.

She takes a quick glance around the room she’s in, stretched on something that looks like a doctor’s bench, before looking back at the woman in front of her, who is regarding her with a blandly pleasant expression on her face.

“Apologies for the rough treatment, detective.” Agent Susan Vasquez says, by way of greeting. “I hope you’re feeling alright.”

Maggie looks around again, trying to get some sense of where she is from the surroundings, but the room is featureless. There’s the muted hum of work going on outside, similar to the buzz of an office on a busy day, but the white walls hinder any guess at specifics. Aside from Vasquez, the only other occupant of the room is another agent, standing a little ways behind her. Maggie vaguely recognizes him as the same one who had been at the station with Vasquez, back when they had taken the Sinclair evidence files.

“When you said you’ll be in touch,” She begins mildly, as she returns her attention to Agent Vasquez, trying to buy some time with banter, “I didn’t realize this was what you had in mind.”

“I’m sorry.” Vasquez says, and this time something of the apology _does_ seep into her tone. “From the recount given by our agents of your arrest, you had your gun out, and they couldn’t be sure of what you would do next.”

“That still doesn’t explain kidnapping me in front of my own apartment.” Maggie fires back.

“It was as much for your own protection, as to serve our needs.” Vasquez says.

The other agent moves as Vasquez speaks. He nears Maggie and throws a backpack by her side, the same one that she had been carrying at the time of the attack.

Maggie blinks, feeling the weight of it as she lifts it up. It’s about the same as she remembers. She slings it over her shoulder, as she slides off the bench, surreptitiously checking the lock slung around the main zipper of the bag. Unbroken. That’s promising.

“How long have I been here?” She asks, looking up at Vasquez, trying not to give away that she feels a little unsteady on her feet.

“Four hours.” Vasquez says. “Our team brought you into headquarters a little past 3 am.”

Maggie swipes at her back with her free hand, feeling the phantom imprint of a leg pressing into her, the impact still as oddly familiar as it had felt last night.

“Does it usually take you this long to process an unlawfully detained citizen?” She inquires.

“Protocol.” Vasquez says with a wry smile. “You were stunned, and we have a whole procedure to go through, to make sure there weren’t any adverse effects to your body.”

“Much appreciated.” Maggie says, equally wry.

Her tone belies how blindsided she feels, on top of the disorientation of waking up in an unknown place. She tries to pace it out, sentence by sentence, trying not to let herself get a full awareness of the number of things that are out of her control, in this situation.

“Is this a black site?” she asks.

“You’re not the enemy, Detective Sawyer.”

Which doesn’t answer the question.

“Why am I here?” Maggie tries again.

“We have a few questions, and we thought this was the safest way to conduct an interview.”

Vasquez’s tone is as professional as it had been at the beginning, but Maggie can see the agent behind her shift on his leg. The look he levels at Maggie, as they make brief eye contact, is not a friendly one.

Maggie turns her attention back to Vasquez.

“How can I trust that you’re still who you say you are?” she asks. “How can I trust that you haven’t gone rogue?”

“I can’t imagine you haven’t tried to get me or Agent Demos verified through one of your contacts.” Vasquez says simply.

Maggie purses her lips. She had. The check had come through clean.

“What did you want to ask?”

“The Sinclair case.” Vasquez asks. “What has your follow-up on it led to?”

Maggie raises her eyebrows.

“What follow-up?” She asks.

“Our sources say that you’ve been going through the evidence files regularly.”

“Of course I have.” Maggie says. “Sinclair is going to trial by the end of the year, if the prosecution can wrangle it, and I’ll be testifying. I’ve been refreshing myself on the case just about every week. But there’s been no _follow-up,_ except on the legal side.”

“So you haven’t been following up on fresh leads?” Vasquez clarifies.

“No.” Maggie says, baffled at this new turn of direction. “I was asked to hand over the case, agent, if you’ll recall, by _you_. At that time, I stopped pursuing new leads.”

“So you haven’t looked into it at all, after that?” Vasquez asks. A strain of disbelief enters her voice. “A case you’ve been pursuing for the better part of a year, and you just let it slide?”

“Because I have a _job_ to do.” Maggie says. “I moved on; I had new cases to deal with.”

Vasquez frowns.

“Is there...some reason to believe that I wouldn’t have?” Maggie asks slowly.

“There have been recent developments.” Vasquez says, with equal tedium, as if she’s weighing her words and trying to figure out how much to give away. “Concerning developments, that have led us to consider if there might have been an external ... motivating factor.”

“I can’t help with such a vague explanation.” Maggie points out.

“We’re not asking you for help.” Agent Demos barks from behind Vasquez, seemingly fed up. “We just need to know if you’re involved somehow.”

“I’ve just said I’m not.” Maggie says.

“That’s what we needed to know.” Vasquez interjects before Demos can speak again. “Although, we will be following up on that claim, detective.”

Maggie shrugs. She can’t help the resigned smile that creeps over her face.

“You said that this meeting...all this subterfuge...was for my own protection too.” She says. “What did you mean by that?”

Vasquez looks wary at the question. Her head tilts just a fraction, as if she had wanted to turn to her fellow agent for support, but thought better of the gesture.

“Roulette isn’t a forgiving woman.” Is the answer she eventually gives. “We’re following standard internal procedure when dealing with the threat of a highly advanced and well-connected criminal.”

The answer, unsatisfactory as it is, gnaws away at Maggie, giving rise only to more uncomfortable speculation.

“Platitudes.” she says, “I can’t watch out for myself or anyone else, if you won’t even give me the details on what I’m supposed to watch out for.”

If there had been recent developments, concerning enough that they had brought her in, are they worried that Sinclair’s friends might be out for revenge? Or that Roulette herself is pulling the strings from prison? Is that why they had bypassed speaking with Maggie in an official setting? Because being seen as still connected with the case might put her in immediate danger too?

From the suddenly blank faces on both agents, though, it’s pretty clear that Maggie isn’t going to get a proper answer to that mystery.

“Am I free to go now?” She asks.

Now, the agents _do_ glance at each other.

“There’s some paperwork that needs to be filled out, and I’m afraid you’ll need to be blindfolded on the ride back.” Vasquez says. “But, yes, that’s all we needed to know for now. Unless...”

Her voice trails off, and suddenly she’s fixing her gaze on Maggie with an eagle-eyed focus, in a way that she’d no doubt perfected at some training session in Quantico. “Is there anything else that you want to tell us, detective?”

Maggie is fairly certain that the question is just fishing. Still...the database lies heavy against her side, the sharp edges of its projector poking through her backpack. She wonders why they hadn’t searched it, and considers the possibility that it may be a trick. That line of thought doesn’t make sense, though. Maggie could simply plead ignorance, even if they do find the database in her bag.

There’s that indefinable ache in her chest again, as she thinks of Alex, who had risked her life numerous times to get the database back, and the promise that Maggie had made, to get it to where it belonged.

A promise she’d made under false premises, Maggie reminds herself. A promise made to someone who might have committed treason, whose transgressions Maggie had let slide for far too long, out of some half-baked aspiration to rehabilitation.

How many rules had she broken, and how much protocol had she swept aside, believing that having faith in one person would somehow make it all worth it one day?

How far had she fallen?

“No.” Maggie replies to the agent. “Nothing else.”

\--

 

Maggie expects to be driven back to her apartment after the interview, or dropped off at a spot close enough to catch a ride. Instead, Vasquez drives her personally to the station, with Maggie seated blindfolded in the back of an unmarked car, next to Agent Demos.

“I figured you’d be dropping me off at my place or something.” Maggie says, as she gets out of the car at the end of the ride, blinking a little to adjust to the sun. “This is a bit over the top, isn’t it?”

“You did express doubts about our official capacity.” Vasquez replies, and Maggie _swears_ the agent is enjoying this, behind that professional veneer. “What’s more official than dropping you off in front of your workplace?”

Maggie is about to retort, when a voice from behind her stops her cold.

“Sawyer.”

Maggie flinches involuntarily, and turns around. Captain Rivera is walking out of the station, her face a thundercloud.

“Morning, agents.” The captain says, looking past Maggie’s shoulder, her voice calm and measured in a way that’s very different from her usual dry cadence. “Why are you driving one of my detectives to my station, dressed in what looks to be slept-in tactical gear, on a day when she’s not even on shift?”

Maggie resists the urge to sag. She’d expected to slip in unnoticed, maybe brushing off a couple quips from the morning crew.

This alternative is disastrous.

“We had to bring Detective Sawyer in for an interview, Ma’am.” Vasquez replies. “Thought it would be best to drop her off here.”

She sounds a little sharp, despite the blandly worded answer. Maggie wonders if that’s real, or if it’s put on for the benefit of misleading any informants that might get back to Sinclair.

The captain is frowning, still ignoring Maggie in favor of glaring over her shoulder.

“Is this regarding the Roulette case again?” She asks. “Have there been further developments?”

“That information is classified.” Demos butts in. “We wanted to make sure that your detective isn’t pursuing the case further, seeing as it’s out of her jurisdiction now.”

Well, Maggie thinks, trying not to roll her eyes, at least she doesn’t have to guess at whether _his_ belligerence is intentional or not.

“My detective is well aware of where her jurisdiction begins and ends.” The captain is saying coldly. “I sign off on her timesheet and paperwork, and nowhere have I seen her put in any further work into the Sinclair case, than what’s required by the ADA in charge of preparing for the trial.”

Demos looks disgruntled. Again, Vasquez interjects before he can retaliate.

“We found the interview satisfactory.” She says simply. “It alleviated our concerns. We’re sorry to have interrupted your work, Captain. Thank you for your time, Detective Sawyer.”

The captain coolly regards the hand held out for her to shake, until Vasquez retreats it with an amused smile.

“I’d say see you around, detective.” She says, addressing Maggie now. “But that won’t be strictly true, so let me thank you for your cooperation, instead.”

Maggie nods, feeling somehow as if she’s caught in-between a battle of wills.

As the agents head back to their car and drive away, Captain Rivera turns to face Maggie, her face a furious mask that threatens to be judge and jury all at once.

“Was I right in sticking up for you there?” The captain asks. “Or, was everything I just said a lie?”

“Captain.” Maggie starts, figuring that she might as well rip the bandage off now. “I can explain, it’s just - it’s complicated ...I’d like to request a meeting.”

Captain Rivera barks out an unamused laugh.

“It had better be one hell of a meeting, if it’s going to explain why you got mixed up with the FBI in a case you were specifically asked to stop investigating, Sawyer.”

“They detained me!” Maggie protests, “I _wasn’t_ pursuing the case.”

“Why were you in tactical gear, then, outside of work hours?” The captain asks. “I saw you leave your shift on time last night, in your usual jacket.”

Maggie bites her lips, trying to stop them from twisting. She should have known her habit of working late would trip her up.

“I filed a requisition form with Admin for the gear.” She offers.

“Not my point, Sawyer.”

“I know.” Maggie admits, looking down. “That’s part of the reason why I need to talk to you.”

“You know what?” The captain puts up a hand. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, but I think there’s something more important that you need to take care of first.”

She strides back into the station without further explanation, and Maggie follows, struggling out of the vest.

“The Clydesdales and Parsons area.” The captain snaps out, as they walk in. “A little bar away from the intersection. Sound familiar?”

M’gann’s bar. Maggie feels her heart speed up, dread already seeping into her from the stern look on the captain’s face.

The captain doesn’t keep her waiting.

“It got attacked last night.” She says. “Some kind of bioweapon, designed to take anyone with non-human genetics out, from the preliminary lab results.”

“No.” Maggie whispers. It’s a momentary instinct, to refuse the news in a bid to make it go away, but the dread rushes back in tenfold, as the captain talks right over her denial.

“Two wounded.” She says, voice rough. “Both got rushed to the hospital by first responders, but one is still in unstable condition. It looks like the bar had been expecting the attack, and had some safeguards in place for it.”

“I’m sorry.” Maggie replies by instinct, heart beating fit to burst out of her chest. “Captain, I have to go...M’gann...she could be hurt...she-”

“She’s fine.” The captain snaps. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all night, Sawyer, because I know you frequent that bar. The calls kept going to voicemail, and then you show up today, with the feds on your tail.”

Maggie closes her eyes, reopens them, and nods skyward, both in relief at M’gann’s wellbeing, and in acceptance of the chastisement.

“Tell me what I need to do.” she says, trying to put frantic thoughts of her friend out of her mind.

“Maybe I’m making a big damn mistake saying this.” The captain says, casting an exasperated eye over her. “But you’re my best detective when it comes to off-world crime, even if you do tend to go off the rails more than I like.”

“Tell me where I’m needed, captain.” Maggie repeats. She calls on her training; the insistence on discipline, the rules, the emphasis on following procedure...all the things that are supposed to hold you up when the world is falling apart, as has happened all too often in her line of work.

“Sign in.” The captain barks, pointing her towards the deputy on duty. “Get that ridiculous gear off, go to the damn bar, and get back to me with a full statement by the afternoon. I’ve told the lab rats to wait on scene for you.”

Maggie nods, throwing the discarded vest over her desk, sending a stack of papers flying to the floor, grasping at the spare jacket lying over her chair, and heading out to her bike, after a hurried scan of her badge by the deputy.

“A full fucking statement, Sawyer!” The captain calls to her retreating back, to the bemusement of the rest of the station.

\---

 

Maggie almost bowls over the NCPD Forensic Lab’s admin, Tamika, in her haste to get to M’gann, when she arrives at the bar.

“Slow down, Maggie.” Tamika says, a slight frown on her face, as she steadies Maggie against her. “We’ve still got most of the place cordoned off.”

Maggie looks around, taking in the scene.

“Can you give me the rundown?” She asks, somewhat out of breath. “The captain sent me here at the last minute.”

“I’d say.” Tamika says, looking her up and down, before handing over the clipboard that she’d been marking her way down. “I thought today was your day off.”

“Change of plans.” Maggie says, eliciting raised eyebrows from the lab admin, followed by a disinterested shrug.

“I can give you the specifics back at the lab.” Tamika tells Maggie. “In summary, it’s an airborne chemical attack. The perps seems to be three males, white, human or humanoid, who set off the bioweapon inside the bar. It’s going to take us some time to isolate the substances involved. Luckily, the bar seems to have installed a new ventilation system recently, built to rebuff this kind of attack. The two guys nearest to the perps’ table got unlucky, though.”

Her face turns grave at the last sentence. Maggie takes the clipboard proffered to her, and ticks off the response procedures by habit, though her mind is still bent on M’gann.

“Any leads?” she asks.

Tamika shakes her head.

“I’ll need to get back to the lab before I can give you anything concrete.” she says. “Looks like a cut-and-dry hate crime to me, from our preliminary analysis, but it’s still early days. Who can tell what we’re going to dig up?”

Maggie nods absentmindedly. The reports she can look at later. Getting to see M’gann, however...

“She’s inside?” She asks Tamika.

“The owner?” Tamika asks, waiting for Maggie’s confirmation before nodding. “Yeah, her crew is cleaning up whatever we haven’t blocked off. She’s already given us a report of what happened, but if you need to talk to her...”

She trails off and shrugs, turning back to her team with the checklist that Maggie had signed off on, leaving Maggie free to her own devices.

Maggie picks her way past the yellow tape and strewn bits of broken glass, to the interior of the bar, where M’gann is putting up some overturned chairs. Darla is mopping the cleaned portion of the floor, carefully working around the cordoned-off area, while a bespectacled woman that Maggie hasn’t seen before is sweeping up broken bottles and glass shards into a dustpan.

Maggie gives Darla a nod, returned with a slight smile, before heading towards M’gann.

“Oof!” M’gann says jokingly, when Maggie crushes her with an embrace, but she sags against Maggie as she speaks.

“M’gann.” Maggie mutters, unable to get anything more out.

“I was hoping they’d assign you to this.” M’gann says, and when Maggie squeezes her tighter, “Maggie, I’m fine. I wasn’t hurt.”

Maggie steps back, and she can’t even find it in herself to be embarrassed at having lost control of her emotions in public like that, with Darla and the other woman both watching, Darla with a slight smile and the stranger with curiosity.

M’gann, one of the few people in the world whom Maggie can count as a friend, is okay. M’gann, who had welcomed Maggie with open arms into a bar that she’d had every reason to keep all humans out of, is okay. M’gann, who’d given Maggie a place to go after work, where she could pretend to be a little less alone, is okay.

But she could easily not have been.

“I promise I’ll do everything I can to find out who did this, M’gann.” Maggie says. “Even if I have to do it myself, on my own time.”

M’gann looks at her gravely, eyes searching, before nodding.

“You won’t be without help.” She says briefly. “We’re going to get through this. Together.”

“I have to take a statement.” Maggie says. “Sorry M’gann, but official investigation channels and all that.”

M’gann nods, walking over to a sideways table and setting it upright again.

“I know.” She says. “Believe me, Maggie, I’ve been at this bar long enough to know how that sort of thing goes. I’ve already given the rundown to your forensic lady” - she gestures out the broken window at Tamika - “But, tell you what? Help me put this furniture back in place, and you’ll get your statement. There was a lot of stampeding to get to the door when the attack happened.”

So, Maggie sets out to righting upended tables and putting the chairs back together in the order that M’gann dictates, taking care to stay out of the path of Darla’s mop in the meanwhile. As she’s busy at work, she notices out of the corner of her vision that the bespectacled stranger is finished clearing up the broken glass, and is conversing softly with M’gann. The bar is silent enough that Maggie can still hear them, as she struggles with slotting a particularly stubborn table back into its pre-carved grooves on the floor.

“I have to go now, M’gann.” The words are said regretfully. “ Cat and my little one are expecting me to join in their meeting with L Corp, and I believe I’m almost late.”

Maggie’s ears prick up at the familiar company name. She looks up in time to see M’gann lift up on her toes to give the woman a hug. Maggie looks back down quickly, but can’t escape the words.

“You didn’t have to stay and help clean up.” M’gann says.

“It is...how does my niece say it?” The woman’s voice takes on a puzzled tone. “It is what friends are for?”

M’gann makes a half-exasperated, half-amused noise. “Just go, you useless excuse for a businesswoman. Go!”

“Take care, M’gann.”

“Take care, Ash.”

Then footsteps are walking in Maggie’s direction, passing her on the way to the door. Or, so she thinks, until they stop in front of her, and a hand reaches down to help with the table leg that she had been struggling with, easily slotting it back into its habitual place.

Maggie looks up, a little annoyed at the unasked-for help, to find curious eyes staring down at her, from behind overlarge glasses.

“So you are the detective.” There is something familiar in how the eyebrows slope down over a shallow-ridged forehead, furrowing in puzzlement rather than in disapproval. “You are...tinier than I expected.”

On that confusing note, the stranger is out the door. Maggie turns back to M’gann, only to see her shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

“Later.” M’gann says, before heading back to the counter, and setting the barstools back in place.

And it is indeed more than an hour later, after the bar looks somewhat presentable, and Darla has clocked off for the day, that M’gann sits opposite Maggie in one of the vacant tables, and finishes giving her statement.

“And you can’t give any identifying features about the attackers?” Maggie asks for the third time, wording the question a little differently again.

M’gann shakes her head, looking exhausted.

“There were three of them.” she says. “They looked humanoid, but I figured they were aliens because I couldn’t...well, I had a feeling they were. They were quiet and kept to the back of the bar, though, so I didn’t pay much attention to them. I didn’t even notice, until after, that the initial explosion had originated from their table.”

She runs her fingers through her hair and looks down to study the finished statement, as Maggie slides it silently over to her, after having taken down those final words. She signs it, and leans back, letting out a quiet breath.

“I’m sorry, M’gann.” Maggie whispers, after a beat of silence. “Your patrons, your business, your livelihood...I’m...I’m just sorry.”

M’gann shakes her head.

“The bar is still opening for business, as soon as the yellow tape is cleared.” She says, face resolute. “And I’ve got savings, and people who’ll help me out even if I run out. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

Maggie waits patiently as M’gann looks back down at the table. When she speaks again, her voice is hoarse, and pitched low.

“I keep checking my phone for updates on Bartal.” she says. “He’s the one still in the ICU. He was closest to their table. The chemical got to him before the air filters kicked in.”

She splays her fingers out on the table, and studies them, while Maggie still keeps silent, trying to stave off the detective curiosity for a little while longer, and just be there for her friend.

“I wonder how many more would have been hurt - or even killed - if we hadn’t gotten the warning?” M’gann asks, her face looking haunted.

“You did your best.” Maggie says, “Someone else’s issues are not on you, M’gann.”

M’gann shakes her head. “I can’t just shake off responsibility like that. Not anymore. We have to find who did this, and we have to stop them.”

“I’m with you.” Maggie tells her, even if she’s not quite following M’gann. “Every step of the way. But ...M’gann, I have to ask.”

M’gann looks at her resignedly, waiting for her to continue.

“You said you got an anonymous tip-off over the phone.” Maggie says. “A call warning you to be prepared for an attack.”

“You can check the phone records.” M’gann says, her tone wary. “I set to work installing a defensive air filter system the very day I got the call.”

“And you didn’t recognize the caller?” Maggie asks.

M’gann smiles wryly.

“Like I said, Maggie, you can check the records. I don’t think even your department would be able to trace that call.”

That isn’t a straight up denial, which is what makes Maggie certain that her gut feeling is justified.

“But, off the record,” She tries again, softening her voice, “You’ve got absolutely no idea who it was?”

M’gann goes back to regarding her hands. Her face is a little ashy compared to its usual warm brown hue, but when she looks back at Maggie, it is determination that dominates it.

“There’s something that not a lot of humans know about Martians, Maggie.” She says abruptly. “We can read minds.”

There’s a moment of silence, as Maggie waits for the punchline. All evidence until then has shown her that M’gann isn’t the type to make jokes at times like this, but shock does strange things to people. As the punchline fails to come, though, she rearranges her mindset.

After all, Earth is now host to aliens who can shoot laser-beams out of their eyes, and others who can catalyze fire with their hands. Telepathy is a bit out there, but it fits in with some of the odd things that Maggie has noticed now and again about M’gann, things she’d previously written as off-worlder quirks, but which make more sense now, in their proper context.

“That must really help as a bartender.” She deadpans, in the wake of the revelation, and M’gann almost looks like she wants to laugh, but she also looks relieved, as if Maggie’s reaction had been much better than she had hoped for.

“It’s a matter of syncing brainwaves.” She explains. “It’s not automatic, and not all alien psychologies are compatible for it...Kryptonians are the exception that you’d be most familiar with, I think.”

Kryptonians. That brings back thoughts of Alex to the surface. Maggie ruthlessly quells them, and gets back on track.

“Is this related to how you know who the caller was?” She asks, trying to shove down her own discomfort at this new information. She trusts M’gann enough to believe that she wouldn’t have knowingly violated her own privacy like that.

“Like I said, it’s not automatic.” M’gann says, “It doesn’t happen unless I actually intend it to happen. In this case, I already had my suspicions as to who the caller was, and my...ability...only helped me to verify that hypothesis. I only did it because it was a life or death situation, Maggie. I hope you understand that.”

Maggie nods.

“Is that why you figured that the attackers weren’t human either?” she asks. “Because you couldn’t read their minds?”

M’gann nods again.

“I was scanning every first-timer at the bar since the warning call.” She says. “When I think back on it, it’s very likely that those three were just humans using brain scan disruptors.”

Maggie shakes her head. And she had thought everything Alex had thrown at her had been hard to swallow.

“Who was it?” she asks. “The caller.”

M’gann shakes her head.

“If I told you...if the matter goes on record, it could put their life at risk. I’ll need to talk to them before I tell you.”

Maggie feels frustrated at the number of mysteries mounting on top of each other.

“Then why tell me all this now?”

“Because I trust you.” M’gann says simply. “Because I need your help to fight this...whatever it is, and I want you to have all the information I can give you. I want to help you with this, Maggie. I just...I need some time.”

_I trust you._

Maggie looks down, overwhelmed at the fact that M’gann trusts her, that M’gann still wants to work with her, even though trusting humans had been what had got the bar attacked in the first place. She knows M’gann isn’t reading her mind right now, but wonders if she knows anyway, how much that means to her.

Judging by the half-smile on M’gann’s face as she regards her, Maggie dares to hope that she might.

\---

 

When Maggie heads back to the station, Captain Rivera is waiting for her.

“We’re having that meeting now.” The captain says, heading for her office without further ado.  

“Captain,” Maggie starts, before Captain Rivera can open her mouth, “I’d like to apologize about last night-”

“Sawyer.” The captain says in turn, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers and leaning slightly backwards in her chair.

Maggie soldiers on.

“I know I should have been in contact, especially when I’m in such a time-sensitive line of work.”

“Sawyer.”

“But there were circumstances beyond my control!” Maggie protests, before circling back to self-chastisement. “Although...I should still have explained them to you beforehand.”

“Sawyer!” The captain barks. “I wasn’t pissed at you for being unavailable during your off-duty hours! I was short with you because I was _worried_ about you.”

There’s silence for a while, as Captain Rivera scans the entirety of the ceiling, while Maggie gazes around at the walls.

“We’ll be running out of directions to look in, soon.” The captain observes. “Let’s just accept that you’re one of my best detectives, and that I care about your well-being, and _move on_.”

Maggie nods, feeling oddly sheepish, but also feeling something warm glow inside her, albeit dampened by the knowledge of the meeting to follow, that would surely have the captain reconsidering that statement.

“Good.” The captain nods, businesslike. “Now, are you going to tell me why I staked my career’s future, by sticking up for you against the goddamn feds?”

Maggie feels dread settling on. This is it. Time to rip the bandage, and hope for something less than outright dismissal from the force.

“It’s a long story.” She stalls.

The captain makes a show of looking at the clock.

“I’ve got two hours until a meeting with the captain of the 99th precinct about our joint drug task force. I think you can manage to give me the gist by then.”

Maggie feels something like a broken record when she begins. After all, she’s told this story more than once now: repeatedly to Kara, and then to herself in the statement that she had prepared, in case of an eventuality.

The repetitiveness makes it easier, though, when faced with the laser focus of the captain, which is more intimidating than any grand jury that Maggie’s worst imaginary scenarios could have conjured.

Maggie lays it all out, from the day at the warehouse when she had met Alex, to the ordeal of the previous night, with the exception of one narrative thread, carved out of the confession with laser precision. That part, she keeps to herself.

As her story winds to a close, the captain looks exasperated and flabbergasted by turns.

“And that’s why the agents wanted to talk to me today.” Maggie finishes. “Or so they say...although, I’m kind of surprised that they’re being this circumspect about it.”

“I’m not.” Captain Rivera murmurs, sounding absentminded.

Maggie looks up inquiringly, but the captain seems far away, lost in thought.

“Tell me.” She snaps out suddenly, just as Maggie is evaluating whether to interrupt her reverie or not. “What unit did those two agents say they were from?”

Maggie blinks, thinks back to the cards that had been presented to her.

“Specialized Threats Unit.” She says, and the captain nods in satisfaction.

“I thought so.” She says.

“What do you mean?”

“You transferred here ...what...five years ago?” The captain hazards. “Right around the time when the higher-ups started talks on officially branding us the Science Division?”

Maggie nods.

“Then what I’m about to tell you happened years and years before you even came to this city.” The captain says. “Back then, we were still just the 13th precinct. Our forensic lab was pretty much just a converted storage closet, and we were the dopes that the upper management kept passing on all the alien-related cases to, that the other cops wouldn’t touch.”

Maggie nods, trying not to look to impatient for the captain to reach her point.

“Except we never got anywhere with them.” The captain admits. “Every time we brought in an off-worlder, even on the simplest charges, a certain division of the FBI would come in to snap them up, and we never heard about the case again.”

“The Specialized Threats Unit.” Maggie says slowly, working it through to the obvious conclusion. “The same unit that Agents Vasquez and Demos said that they were from.”

“Well, we’ll get to that.” The captain says, with a smile that doesn’t look very amused. “Getting back to my original point, things got to the point where our squad had an unofficial policy of not bringing in off-worlders for light infractions, like minor substance possession or getting involved in drunken pub brawls.”

“But that’s-” Maggie flounders.

“Against the very rules of the profession, I know.” The captain sighs. “But it was either that, or having off-worlders end up at a black site for forgetting to put their signal on for a left turn. It didn’t make us popular with the other precincts, but it was our system, and it _worked_.”

Maggie nods slowly. She internally concedes - albeit reluctantly - that it isn’t much different from what she does with Brian, or some of her other CIs.

“Did you ever find out what happened to the people who were taken to the black sites?” she asks. The answer is obvious, but some part of her wants absolute clarification, before accepting such a thing of her own government.

The captain shakes her head wryly.

“Negative.” She says, in a monotone. “That was the thing. We don’t know if they were killed, or imprisoned, or even given a trial.”

“ _Christ_.”

Maggie realizes that the horrified word had been uttered by her. The captain only acknowledges it with a tired nod, before continuing.

“They said they were from Specialized Threats - a division we hadn’t even heard of until then - and presented all the right credentials, so of course we took them at face value.” She muses, sounding almost as if she were talking to herself. “But we found out through the grapevine that a small division had broken off from the FBI decades before, and been given extrajudicial powers, expressly for the purpose of dealing with alien threats. They called it the Department of Extranormal Operations...the DEO.”

“You asked me-” Maggie scrambles to remember that throwaway question from months ago. “You asked me if I’d ever heard of the DEO.”

Captain Rivera nods.

“But then, they stopped.” She continues, looked faintly puzzled now. “We heard something about their director getting killed off, and a second-in-command - Hank Henshaw - being promoted to fill the position. We were expecting much of the same after that - Henshaw was famous for his anti-alien views, even among us local cops - but they just ... stopped.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our cases weren’t getting stolen anymore. They didn’t come for our arrests, unless it was something high-profile like murder, or public assault on a large scale.”

Captain Rivera spreads her hands out wide, her brow wrinkled. It’s the most unsure that Maggie has seen her be in a long time.

“There were rumors of some large-scale turnover of personnel there. I didn’t get all the details, but the upshot of it was that we could do our jobs again. We could process the usual lot through our system... give them an open trial, all that.”

“The usual lot?” Maggie pounces on that wording. “What if an alien messed up seriously?”

The captain shakes her head.

“That hasn’t happened in years.” She says. “Or at least, not to one in our custody. I think the 17th precinct did get a visit from them a couple of years ago, over some escaped prisoner, but “Specialized Threats” hasn’t taken over one of our cases in over five years.”

She draws that last part out, and Maggie shifts uneasily.

“Until my case.” She finishes for the captain. “The Sinclair case.”

The captain sighs by way of confirmation.

“What have you gotten yourself into, Sawyer?” She asks now, her voice sharp. “I know we can’t always go by the book to get leads on cases like ours, but I wish you had _told_ me before you got this deep in with a weapons-dealing criminal.”

“I guess I was hoping to deal with her afterward.” Maggie mumbles, “I was so focused on getting anything that we could pin on Sinclair. Alex...Danvers... was just a distraction, at that point. I fully intended to bring her in, after we had Sinclair locked up for good.”

But then, she had gone and tried to _understand_ Alex Danvers. Alex had - Maggie has to admit it now, at the moment when all pretenses have to be undone - become her _friend._ Someone Maggie had trusted with her life, and gone on deadly missions with, despite not knowing much about the woman _._

“She saved my life.” She says, and looks up at the captain. “Why would she do that?”

The captain is regarding her with sympathy.

“This is why we don’t get involved with CIs, Sawyer.” She points out, in a tone that isn’t unkind, but doesn’t brook defiance either. “Rookie mistake. You don’t know her motivations, or her end goal.”

“I had a buddy of mine run her through the federal database.” Maggie mumbles. “A match didn’t come up for her, captain. She officially doesn’t exist.”

The captain’s brow wrinkles.

“There could be reasons for that.” She points out. “She could be out of the system. Or in witness protection. Or any other number of possibilities.”

“I think she used to work for them.” Maggie she says. “For this...for the DEO.”

The captain considers the statement, before nodding.

“That would fit in with the information you’ve given me so far.” She says. “That might also explain why the federal records don’t have her listed. I don’t think DEO agents can be found unless they actually want to be.”

Maggie thinks back to her check on Agents Vasquez and Demos, and finds herself questioning how much of what she had found on them had been fabricated solely for the purpose of satisfying her inquiry. She wonders how much power this organization wields, if their agents were capable of that kind of manipulation of information.

“You know, this informant of yours...she could be undercover.” The captain points out. “She could still be working for them, if that was the case.”

Maggie frowns.

“I considered that last night, as I was walking home.” She admits. “It doesn’t seem to fit with the facts. For one thing, she didn’t have to bring _me_ into the loop, then. She could have just given the dirt on Sinclair straight to them.”

“This is a mess.” The captain mutters. “Even if she’s exactly what she seems to be, if we bring her in-”

“-you have nothing but my word for it.” Maggie says. “We have no proof. How can we ever get her to trial?”

The captain sighs.

“How about your CI?” She suggests. “The one who tipped you off in the first place? Maybe we can get a lead on her.”

Maggie hesitates.

This is the part she had skirted around, when she had divulged “all” to the captain. She had done it for reasons that she has yet to clarify to herself, other than her blooming suspicions.

“I don’t know anything about her other than her name.” She lies now, as the captain waits for an answer. “Kara. That’s it.”

“No last name?”

Maggie shrugs, signaling a negative.

“She usually passes on leads to me in emails.” She ventures. “I’ve got nothing on her.”

“You said before, that she volunteered to pass on the leads?” The captain looks even more troubled.

Maggie nods. They don’t usually get that kind of volunteered help, not unless it’s some already in the system and looking for a commuted sentence.

“And you know nothing else about her?”

Maggie makes sure to make eye-contact with the captain, when she replies with a firm “No.”

The captain taps her fingers on the table, and is silent for a few minutes, before she speaks again.

“I know what we’re supposed to do, Sawyer.” She says. “We’re cops. If we see a crime, we follow up on it. And there’s no question that this...friend...of yours, has broken more than a few laws.”

“Yes?” Maggie says uncertainly.

“But, we’re already stretched tight here as it is.” The captain continues. “And we’ve got our own problems, between the new government squeezing us on our arrest numbers, and the budget crunch. And you’re still not even sure of this ...Danvers’ affiliations.”

“You’re asking me to the drop the issue?” Maggie asks, racing ahead to the implied conclusion.

“You don’t know what the DEO’s stake in all this is.” The captain argues, a little defensively, as if she’d heard a challenge in the question. “They’ve never been appreciative of us stepping on their toes in the past, even when we’re on the same side. I’m not going to tell you whether to pursue a case against this Danvers or not. But, I will tell you what I think your priorities as relates to the Science Division are.”

Maggie nods, but stays silent, waiting for the captain to continue.

“I think you need to hand in the information you got from the database about the Centaurian drug into the lab.” The captain says. “We need to get some actionable results on that case. Then, we proceed with getting Sinclair to trial. And then, if the DEO _still_ hasn’t dealt with your friend, we start building a case against her.”

“And what about the DEO itself?” Maggie asks.

The captain’s fingers start tapping again.

“Let’s play it by ear.” She says, eventually. “Whatever their past, they seem to be on our side in this fight. I don’t think we’re going to lose anything by co-operating with them.”

Maggie remains silent.

“What’s the problem now, Sawyer?” The captain asks, eyes running over her face.

“The DEO...you said they changed.” Maggie states. “But the aliens who messed up badly...what happened to them? Where were they taken? Were they bumped off? Are they still in prison? Were _they_ ever given a trial?”

The captain’s face is downcast before Maggie even finishes her barrage of questions. She looks as if she had not only been expecting them, but been previously struggling with them herself as well.

“I don’t know, Sawyer.”

“So how can we trust them?”

“Our profession hasn’t been any better, in the past.” The captain reminds her. “We need Sinclair behind bars. Interfering with the DEO’s investigation isn’t going to help our goal.”

Maggie purses her mouth, unable to answer in any way that wouldn’t border on insubordinate.

“Just...think it over.” The captain says. “I get the feeling that this is bigger than just us.”

Maggie feels like she’s heard that sentiment out of the mouths of too many people lately.

\---

 

By the time Maggie processes M’gann’s statement through, and gets finished comparing notes with the forensic team, it’s well into the afternoon. She heads out to grab a quick lunch at the deli near the station, sending a text out to a familiar number as she exits.

A few minutes later, as she nears the intersection across from which the deli is situated, her phone pings with the reply, and Maggie smiles with grim satisfaction as she reads the confirmation.

Her phone pings again, just as she’s sliding it back into her pocket, this time with a call.

“Hello?” Maggie answers, foregoing checking the caller ID, as she launches herself across the street to beat the red light, muscles protesting the exertion after the beatdown from the previous night.

“Maggie, are you okay?” James Olsen asks, sounding concerned over the phone.

Maggie reaches the other side of the crossing and vaults over the pavement.

“Yes.” She says, still breathing heavily, and concerned fleetingly over whether a rib had been damaged during the fight from the previous night, as unfamiliar pain flares in that area. “What is it, James?”

“I’ve got the videos you asked for.” He says. “The files are too big to email over, though. I’ll courier a flash drive over to you.”

“Thanks, James.” Maggie says, as _that_ problem slams its way back to the forefront of her brain. When had her life gotten this inextricably complicated? “I’ll keep an eye out for it.”

There is a silence, where Maggie thinks he has forgotten to hang up. Just as she’s pressing down to end the call, James’ voice comes over the phone again.

“Is everything okay? You don’t sound too good.”

The note of concern is still in his voice, modulated by hesitation, and it makes Maggie a little uncomfortable, to think that he might actually be genuinely concerned. About her.

“I’m fine.” She says, noticing for the first time how hoarse her voice sounds, both from dehydration and from sheer exhaustion. “On the other hand, I just asked a secret government agent, who I’m pretty sure technically kidnapped me, out for lunch, so maybe I’m not.”

The words come out deadpan, and the disbelieving noise James makes into the phone is exactly the reaction she had been hoping for, making Maggie smile genuinely for the first time that day.

“You did what?” James sounds downright baffled now. “Maggie, is everything okay?”

Maggie smiles, and ends the call.

If she had to make nice with the enemy, who was to say she couldn’t get some amusement out of it?

\---

 

Whatever she may be, FBI or DEO, Agent Susan Vasquez works fast.

By the time Maggie finishes ordering her usual sandwich at the deli, grabs a table, and is catching up on her daily news feed, she spots a familiar black car pulling up to the curb of the deli.

Maggie looks back down at the article she had been reading, trying to get through it before the agent enters.

**_L Corp and A.L.U.R.A Join Forces To Further Medical Advances_ **

_When L Corp, the newest high-tech startup to adopt National City as its home, announced the introduction of the Alien Lifeform Detection Device, the technology made headlines worldwide. The device is expected to be in high-demand in the industrial and personal security sectors, as well as in the military sector, but the main focus of L Corp’s CEO  - Lena Luthor - seems to be on the medical breakthroughs it could help advance in the healthcare industry._

_In keeping with this, Luthor attended a celebration at the Luthor Family Children’s Hospital today, to mark the donation of the first 50 units of the device, to be used in the emergency care ward of the hospital. The LFCH is the pilot hospital to be testing these devices, and L Corp released an official statement that they would be working with the Agency For The Longterm Understanding and Resettlement of Aliens, to facilitate deployment of the device._

_A.L.U.R.A is a non-profit organization that has made some remarkable grassroots strides in the past two years, towards providing an accelerated path for integration of off-worlders into National City’s society._

_“We are looking forward to borrowing the experience and knowledge of the Agency, to assist us with training the hospital’s personnel in how to properly use the device to diagnose patients.” Luthor was quoted as saying, adding on with a smile, “It’s a match made in heaven.”_

_Also at the celebration was National City’s own Cat Grant, who recently stepped down as CEO of CatCo Worldwide, and joined the Board of Directors of A.L.U.R.A in the same month, along with assuming executive positions in various other nonprofits. She was the one from the agency’s side who spearheaded this partnership, and was available for..._

Maggie skims the rest of the article as Vasquez nears. In the accompanying photo, she can see Lena Luthor shaking hands with Cat Grant, in front of a banner carrying a blown-up image of the device in question. She taps the news feed closed, just as Vasquez pulls out the chair in front of her.

The agent raises one arm in a salutation that is distinctly more sardonic than her usual professional manner.

“Lost your buddy?” Maggie asks. She glances outside at the parked car. The driver is hard to make out through the dark-tinted window, but the silhouette resembles Agent Demos in build.

Vasquez rolls her eyes when Maggie looks back at her. The gesture is, again, a stark contrast from what Maggie is used to from her.

“Figured you could do without him breathing down your neck for once.” Vasquez says, even her tone different now, rougher and more languid. “Or breathing down mine about ‘protocol’ and ‘preventative measures’, actually.”

As Maggie is debating whether this is some good-cop bad-cop routine, or the agent’s real personality, Vasquez forestalls her.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” She asks.

Maggie cuts to the chase.

“Lord Technologies.” She states, putting her backpack on the table. “Maxwell Lord. Ring a bell?”

A guarded look immediately enters Vasquez’s eyes.

“The high-tech weapons magnate.” She says. “The one that packed his bags and moved to Metropolis a couple years ago. What about him?”

She sounds somewhat uninterested, and for a moment, Maggie wonders if Alex had been off the money about the database belonging to the DEO. The guardedness staves off that fear, though.

“We found this in a raid on one of his storage facilities.” She says, taking the database out of her backpack, now wrapped in a gray plastic bag, and placing it carefully on the table. The plastic is thin enough that she knows Vasquez would be able to see the object inside it, but opaque enough to dissuade the curiosity of the occupants of nearby tables.

Recognition dawns slowly on Vasquez’ face. She cocks her head confusedly at the object at first, then traces over the barely visible runes on it with one hand, before her eyes widen.

“So he did have it.” Is all she says, before looking sharply back up at Maggie. “And you knew exactly where to look, and somehow knew to bring it to us?”

Maggie shrugs, holding the eye contact.

“The DEO is, at best, an open secret within the force.” She lies smoothly. “And it doesn’t take a genius to guess this is an extraterrestrial artifact, considering that the native language of Earth’s most well-known alien is carved into it.”

Vasquez’s lips quirk up sarcastically at that, but she doesn’t look amused anymore, when she actually takes hold of the database.

“But why were you looking for it in the first place?”

Maggie shrugs.

“We were looking for something else.” She says, going with the cover story she’d already worked on. “We’ve been after his cache of illegal weapons for some time.”

Vasquez’s eyes widen at that. Maggie wonders absently if she had hit close to some truth in her hastily concocted lie. Mostly, though, she’s just relieved that Vasquez seems to be buying it.

“I need to hand this over to our Director.” Vasquez says, as she takes out a phone and types something in, one hand still curled around the database. “We might need to bring you in again, though; she’ll have some questions for you.”

“Do what you like.” Maggie says, exhausted with the mind games. “In the meanwhile, I have a job to do, and I need to be getting back to it before my break ends.”

Vasquez scoffs at this.

“Fine.” She says, but her voice lowers into thoughtfulness as Maggie gathers her things. “You know, I’ve never liked this inter-service rivalry bullshit?”

Maggie pauses and raises her eyebrows.

“Look at you and me.” Vasquez says, gesturing between them. “Posturing because we don’t want each other’s organizations to get a leg up on each other. As if _we’re_ each other’s real enemy here.”

It’s a sentiment that Maggie can’t admit being averse to, but she’s also puzzled as to why it’s being brought up in this context, so she remains silent.

“Whatever.” Vasquez says, after the continued silence, waving her hand as if to dispel the statement away too. Her voice returns to its low and professional tone. “Thank you for this, detective. I’ll get it to where it belongs.”

Maggie nods, and leaves the deli, aware of Vasquez remaining seated, watching her leave.

Doubt threatens to rise up again, lingering ones about the DEO’s true goals, but also new ones about whether she had done the right thing in handing over the database. Maggie quells them firmly.

What could the NCPD even have done with the database, after all, when they had no way of knowing how to operate it?

Not without Alex’s help.

Maggie shakes off that thought, and heads back to the station at a light jog.

\---

 

Maggie stays late at work that night, holed up at her desk while the night shift moves around her, so that she can get all the evidence gathered at the bar cataloged and registered into the system. Not that a day’s head-start would allow the samples to be processed any faster by the lab, but it somehow feels like Maggie would be breaking her promise to M’gann, if she leaves without making _some_ kind of progress on the case.

She rubs her eyes and heads out for a break as the antique program processes the items that she had already entered. By instinct, her feet head towards the park near the station, the night quiet except for the steady sound of light rain.

As she enters the park, it doesn’t occur to Maggie - in her tired and bedraggled state - that this is where her last peaceful conversation with Alex had taken place. She just focuses on putting one foot ahead of the other, feeling her worries slide away, as she walks further into the near-silence.

She’s distantly aware that her walk isn’t her usual stride, but a stumbling gait brought on by her recent injuries. It doesn’t really register, though, until she slips in the wet squelchy leaves, and hits the ground, limbs not coordinated enough to catch her fall.

Maggie curses as her mouth makes contact with the dead flora covering the park grounds. She spits out dead leaves, and props herself up on her hands, trying to get traction on the slippery ground, when two arms come around her, lifting her up with a breathy exhale.

A breathy exhale in an extremely recognizable timbre.

“You don’t seem like you should be outside in this state.” Alex says, when Maggie turns around to face her. And oh, it is unfair, that she should look perfectly put together while Maggie looks like a mess, leaves and branches clinging all over Maggie’s face and hair and shirt.

It had been little more than 24 hours since Maggie had last seen her, hadn’t it? And yet, it seems like a lifetime to Maggie, as she looks up at that face.

“I need to talk to you.” Alex says abruptly. Her hands reach up, as if of their own accord. They frame Maggie’s face, sweeping dirt and dead leaves away from her face.

Maggie steps back instinctively.

“I told you to leave me alone.” she says, looking back down at her phone, tapping her fingers against it.

“What did you do with the database?” Alex asks, steamrolling over that. “Maggie, I told you, it’s _important_ that it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Maggie should just answer her and be done with it. Let the DEO deal with their mess, like the captain had advised.

But Maggie is exhausted, and her limbs are screaming in protest from being manhandled like that after the ordeal of the previous night, and she is angry. She is _so_ angry, even if her face refuses to show it, as always.

“I’m not discussing any more official business with you, Danvers.”

She makes to walk away, boots squelching through the mud, but Alex’s grip around her arm tightens.

“That database is more than just official business, Maggie. I’ve worked too long to find it, to have it fall into the wrong hands.”

Maggie doesn’t want to hurt Alex, or even fight her. But to go along with her without a struggle, after her discovery of the database, after the DEO, after Maggie’s chat with the captain? That feels like turning her back on everything she has lived her life by.

So Maggie fights against the hold Alex has on her. She breaks free with a savage pull, even as her feet threaten to slip out from under her again. Alex releases her, looking shocked at the ferocity of Maggie’s action.

She circles right back towards her though, even as Maggie steps back, and they find themselves sparring, on guard both against each other, and against the slippery ground. For a few minutes, Maggie is even keeping up with Alex, although she has a sinking feeling that Alex is holding back. Something about her controlled movements give that away, and the perfunctory motion of her blocks.

Still, Alex’s eyes widen when a swing of Maggie gets too close to her right shoulder.

“You’ve gotten better.” She says, and that compliment grates too, because Maggie fancies it to be grudging. Surprised.

“No, I’ve just been watching you.” She shoots back, forcing Alex backwards towards a nearby tree she can pin her against.

A few more trades of blows that don’t land, and Maggie gets in another one, this time against Alex’s face, unintentionally against the half-healing scar she had seen from before, tearing it again. She sees Alex shake off the spurt of blood, sees her eyes narrow, and Maggie breathes out in satisfaction, not at the blood, but at the acknowledgment of her defiance. She lets a small, controlled grin make it way into her face, knowing it would piss Alex off. _Good._ Let her be enraged. Let Alex learn not to underestimate her again.

Because Maggie _has_ been watching Alex, and learned a little about the way she fights. In her regular sparring practices with the other officers, she’s been training herself to combat exactly those kinds of moves that she’s seen Alex prefer to use.

“Just tell me what you did with the database.” Alex insists. She’s still blocking Maggie’s attacks, not advancing any of her own, which means that she keeps retreating. “Then I’ll leave you alone like you asked.”

Her voice breaks at the last sentence, but Maggie doesn’t notice, she _can’t_ notice. She just keeps sparring, taunting Alex with her strikes, waiting for her to make any mistake that could let Maggie get the upper hand.

But Alex gets serious now, and before Maggie can blink, Alex has taken hold of her again, spinning her around and - oh, trust Alex to use what was supposed to be her own downfall against Maggie - pinning Maggie against the tree. She subdues Maggie’s flailing limbs systematically, until Maggie only has one hand free, a hand she suspects was only overlooked by pre-meditation, to let her think that she had some semblance of control in this.

“What did you do with the database?” Alex demands again.

There’s no real point in denying her an answer now.

“The DEO already have it.” Maggie spits out, her tone low and as devoid of anger as she can make it. “I’m surprised one of your stalker goons hasn’t reported that to you already.”

Alex flinches, more than she had when Maggie had actually swung at her.

“You know about the DEO?” She asks, still not releasing Maggie.

“What would a dumb local cop know about that, right?” Maggie asks. She remembers, now, Alex telling her that Vasquez didn’t work for the FBI. How Alex had blatantly hidden the truth in plain view like that, because she had been so sure that Maggie would never put it together.

And that’s the part that hurts most, Maggie thinks. People have been underestimating her her whole life, but she had been foolish enough to lump Alex in with the small group of people who hadn’t.

She had let down her guard.

No, that wasn’t it. Alex had talked her way through them; they had fallen, without Maggie even realizing it. They had fallen somewhere between late night stakeouts, a body shielding her from bullets, and a beautiful smile in a grave face.

Maggie pauses at that last thought, then succumbs and admits it. Beautiful. Yes, Alex is that too. It’s too late in the game to deny that final humiliation.

“Did you laugh?” She asks Alex, as her free hand strikes out again, the punch aimed to dislodge herself rather than to hurt.

Alex blocks the punch easily, and looks unnerved by the calmness of her tone, but it’s not like Maggie knows any other way to be.

“Did you laugh at how readily I trusted you?” She continues. “At how easily I did what you wanted?”

“Easily?” Alex laughs at that, hard and sharp. “You challenged me every step of the way. And while we’re at it, let’s get one thing straight.”

She tightens her hold on Maggie, moving almost in her face, the only space between them being Maggie’s hand against her chest, holding her at bay.

“You. Still. Don’t. Trust. Me.”

Maggie shakes her head, unwilling to hear those silver-tongued words again. She struggles against Alex wordlessly, fighting her tooth and nail to break free. She elicits gasps out of Alex, and once a startled exclamation, but is unable to break the hold, although Alex has to shift positions a few times in order to keep her in it.

Alex still doesn’t fight her back, though, only puts her hand up to block the calculated strikes.

“Maggie.” She pleads. “Just listen to me; hear what I have to say.”

Maggie shakes her head.

“Every time I listen to you, I come away convinced.” She says. “I’m not risking that again.”

Alex had risked her _life_ to save Maggie. And yet she had still lied to her, and coerced her to commit treason. What end goal did she have, that was worth all that?

“Why did you do it?” Maggie finds herself asking, despite her earlier refusal, her voice still in that cold tone. She brings one hand up, touches Alex’s face lightly, wanting that confirmation of touch before a final goodbye. She considers pulling it away right after, until she feels a slight pressure against it, as if Alex had leaned into the touch, just a little. “Was the money really worth betraying your country?”

Alex’s face crumples, and for a second Maggie thinks she is going to cry. Something like panic grips Maggie’s heart, far removed from the stoicness of her face. She hasn’t prepared for this. The universe is unfair. It should have given her time to regroup, to grieve the loss of something she had never really had, before she met this woman again.

Alex’s face, when she replies again, is almost sheet-white with rage.

“You don’t get to ask that.” She tells Maggie. “You don’t know me, or what I’ve been through.”

“That goes both ways.” Maggie reminds her, and Alex looks at her somewhat hungrily then, as if she’s wondering what Maggie is talking about.

“You know, I’m tempted to say that you made me trust you.” Maggie says.

She’s aware of how calm her face looks, in contrast to the wide-eyed and pale-faced wreck that Alex is. It gives Maggie some small amount of satisfaction, to have the upper hand in that at least, when Alex has defeated her so thoroughly in every other way.

“But I walked into this knowing exactly the risk I was taking.” She continues, as Alex moves in even closer to listen, the seeking of proximity seemingly absentminded. “I just never expected to get burned.”

Maggie has never been the idealistic type. She has known how unjust the law could be, and that while not everyone who’s a criminal is necessarily bad, most tigers don’t change their stripes.

Alex had made her dream of something more, though, without even trying, and Maggie knows she has only herself to blame, for allowing that to happen.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Alex is whispering, staring at her. Her face _does_ look crushed now, and the expression doesn’t wipe away this time, either. “I would never betray you, Maggie.”

Maggie shakes her head, pressing her lips against each other to prevent them from wobbling.

“I feel like I’ve already betrayed everything I stand for.” She says.

What does she have, if not her profession? It’s not like she has a family to fall back on, or even a girlfriend anymore. All she has is her badge, the same badge that her association with Alex had compromised. All because Maggie had hoped for something that could never materialize. Some starved need for connection, and recognition, that had overridden her common sense.

“You did what you did because you believed in me, Maggie.” Alex insists. “And because you cared about getting justice for Roulette’s victims. And if you hadn’t helped me with Aran, I wouldn’t have found him until it was too late. You helped save his _life_ , Maggie. That’s not turning your back on your profession; it’s the very definition of it.”

Maggie looks down.

“This is why I didn’t want to talk to you.” She remarks. “You know what to say too well.”

Alex breathes out a laugh, although her voice catches midway. Maggie looks up, to see Alex staring back with unfathomable sadness in her eyes.

“If I thought it would be for the best, I’d let you take me in.” Alex admits, looking down at her wrists, as if she could already see the handcuffs on them. Her eyes are resigned, as she looks back at Maggie.

“But I’m sorry, Maggie. There are things I have to do, things I _need_ to do.”

“Things like beating up another guy for owing you a payment on an illegal weapon?” Maggie retorts, harkening back to their conversation from two days ago.

Because she’s keeping herself attuned to it, she feels the vibration of the phone inside her jeans. Alex, though, wrapped up in answering Maggie’s question, doesn’t seem to have noticed.

“I had to keep him in his place.” She hisses at Maggie, hurt and angry again. “And he wasn’t some saint. He was planning to blow up a bridge with those weapons.”

“Planning?” Maggie pounces on that word. “Planning?”

Alex’s mouth snaps shut, and her face goes even paler.

“I got them back from him.” She says. “He’s not getting his hands on anything like that again.”

“But what about the next guy like that?” Maggie presses. “And the one after him? Can you keep track of all of them?”

Alex shakes her head, as if frustrated, and looks away.

This is the thing that confuses Maggie about Alex. She seems to have this absolute morality to her that she lives by. And yet, the very profession she’s taken up is antithetical to it. It confuses Maggie, and it also makes her warier of taking Alex at her word.

A siren blares up, very close, and Maggie sees recognition dawns on Alex’s face, as the sound sinks in.

“I called them as soon as you accosted me.” She says, jerking her head downwards at her jeans, when Alex looks at her inquiringly. “My squad should be here any minute now.”

“I need to go.” Alex is saying now. Her tone is pleading. “You need to let me go.”

Maggie shakes her head again.

“Not without a fight.” She says, even as Alex lets go of her and steps back, making as if to run.

Maggie rushes at her, knowing she’s lost before they even begin. It’s Alex who looks devastated, though, as Maggie struggles to keep up with her, raining blows that Alex blocks easily.

The sirens sound even closer now. After all, it isn’t more than a two-minute drive from the station to the park. Maggie locks gazes with Alex, and Alex’s face - Maggie hadn’t thought it possible - collapses further.

“Don’t make me do this.” She says.

Maggie’s only response is to continue her strikes. As they grapple, Maggie can see a patrol car sliding to a stop at the side of the park from the corner of her eyes. Two figures get out, in full gear, but Maggie doesn’t think they’ve been spotted yet, hidden by the trees and undergrowth at the edge of the park.

Before she can make a sound to alert them of her position, Alex slices a hand out at Maggie’s face, doing something that has Maggie stumbling and falling backwards. Then Alex’s hand is at her neck, jabbing at it. There’s a sharp pain, and Maggie finds herself losing consciousness abruptly, for the second time in as many days.

\---

 

Maggie comes to - she figures out by checking the time on her phone afterward - a few minutes later, shaken back to consciousness by the captain’s arms on her shoulders.

“Sawyer.” The captain says, peering down at her worriedly, as Maggie jerks up, shaking the arms off her and stumbling to her feet.

There’s a young officer behind the captain, looking as eager as the captain looks worried, but Maggie ignores them both, whirling around to find where Alex could possibly have gone.

“She’s gone, Sawyer.” The captain says. A note of question enters her voice. “It _was_ her, wasn’t it? There was no one here by the time we got to you.”

Maggie drops her involuntarily outstretched hand, feeling lost and humiliated.

“I tried to hold her.” She says, the voice coming out in a disoriented mumble.

“You need sleep, kid.”

The captain’s hand braces against the back of Maggie’s body, as the rookie hurries to her other side, the two propping Maggie up between them.

Maggie shakes them off, and moves towards the waiting squad car, hearing the captain mutter something involving the word ‘stubborn’ in it, as her and the rookie follow.

The drive from the park back to the station seems interminable for such a short distance, giving Maggie plenty of time for self-chastisement, as she sits huddled in the backseat. It doesn’t miss her notice that this is where the suspect is supposed to sit. It feels...deserving.

There’s a word for people like her, isn’t there?

_Accessory._

When she gets out of the car, though, handcuffs are not slapped on her. Instead, the captain leads Maggie to her office, sits her down, and waits for Maggie to talk.

“She wanted to know what I did with the database.” Maggie says.

“Did you tell her?” There is no inflection in the captain’s voice, aside from perfunctory curiosity.

Maggie looks down, nevertheless, as she nods.

“I tried to stop her from escaping.” She says. “I guess” - she gestures down at herself - “you can see how that went.”

Was Alex really guilty of underestimating Maggie, when she had never been enough to go up against her in the first place?

“You did what your judgment told you was right.” The captain says. Then a note of irritation does enter her voice. “Although, I distinctly remember telling you to leave her to the DEO’s devices.”

There’s a beat of silence, as that sinks in, but Maggie refuses to feel chastised for that particular decision of hers. Alex had sought her out, after all. What else could Maggie have done, in such a circumstance?

“Do I have to give a statement?” She asks, dreading the affirmative.

“I brought that officer along for a reason.” The captain says, smiling faintly. “He won’t talk.”

Maggie nods, and looks around, lost.

“Go home, Sawyer.” The captain sighs. “I don’t want to see your face here again until your next shift.”

Maggie pulls herself up without further prompting, and catches the captain wincing, as she tracks mud-stained boots out of her office.

When she reaches her desk, Maggie sees that the system is finished processing the items she had entered in. She is just closing the program and turning the computer off, when the flash drive nearby catches her eye.

James’ videos. Maggie hasn’t had time to look at them, between handing off the information on the cartel case, and opening the investigation into the bar attack. She hovers above it for a while, before decisively turning the desk light off, and heading for the exit.

As she heads towards her bike, her phone pings with another text. Maggie looks down at the unfamiliar number running over her screen, and opens the message window.

 _Detective Maggie Sawyer?_ \- the text reads, in unusually perfect grammar and punctuation for such a method of communication - _I would like to speak with you in an official capacity. I was advised by a couple of mutual friends to do so._

A second text comes in on the heels of the first, this one a sign off, again unusual in what Maggie has come to expect from texts.

_\- Lena Luthor._

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 50K+ words later, they have both touched each other's faces. I wasn't kidding about this being a slowburn, y'all.
> 
> This is beginning to sound repetitive, but sorry as always for the late update (...although, this one, I did warn for :P). I was trying to keep an update schedule of once a month, but last month got away from me because of other commitments. Here's to hoping the next update will go quicker.
> 
> No Kara in this chapter ... there just wasn't enough space, with everything else I had to get through in this chapter :( She'll be back in the next one, though :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Supergirl dies.

Maggie clicks the last file of footage that James had sent for her perusal, replaying the clip for the fifth time that morning.

The death of Supergirl plays out on the screen in front of her, in the highest resolution that CatCo Worldwide can afford. A cynical part of Maggie thinks that they could probably have put this unaired stuff on pay-per-view, if the networks hadn’t called on some hitherto-unfound restraint, in the aftermath of the tragedy.

The problem is, even when slowed down frame-by-frame, and gone through with a fine tooth comb, there isn’t much in the clips that tell Maggie more than she already knows. All the replays serve is to make clearer her own memory of that night.

She had been stationed at 33rd and King’s at the time of the emergency, near the downtown core of the city, supervising the evacuation of civilians in that area, as the superhuman rampaged above. Aside from looking up occasionally to keep tabs on the proximity of the floating figure in the sky, there had been too many things to oversee in the evacuation process, to pay much attention to the drama playing out above. The sound of military choppers overhead had warranted no more than a mere glance upwards. The occasional blasts of laser beams, aimed downwards by the enraged superhero, were too erratic to attempt to predict.

So, Maggie had kept her head down, kept an ear out for the dispatchers’ orders, and done her job of helping civilians get out of the area. She had only found out the bulk of what happened many hours afterward, via the media, when she had finally been let off duty. 

The salient points of the aftermath, as noted down in her trusty pocketbook, had been:

  1. The alien - immediately identifiable as a Martian - who had suddenly apparated into the air to fight Supergirl, only to be thrown back in defeat again and again.
  2. The warning in Maggie’s ear from the police dispatchers, asking all officers to evacuate the area surrounding the fight immediately.
  3. The green light that had suddenly shone up from the area of the fighting, that Maggie had later learned had emanated from an airstrike by the military, directed at the fighting aliens. 



Getting visual afterward had been a challenge, between all the smoke and fire and confusion. When the dust had cleared, though, one alien had been marched off in handcuffs by the military. The other lay limp and lifeless in the middle of a still-smoking impact crater, ringed by tendrils of green-tinged fire.

It was an impossible sight. Kryptonians couldn’t be killed by any weapon on Earth.

The news anchors had debated the issue from morning till sunlight, of course, calling in everyone from specialists, to scientists, to tinfoil hat conspiracists. The internet boards had lit up, too, each idea that Maggie read being more ridiculous than the one proposed before it. Mind-altering drugs, telepathic control,  _ evil clone _ ...

Maggie shakes her head to keep from going down that path of rabbit-hole speculation, and rewinds the video one more time, to the time stamp where Supergirl’s body had been finally picked up from the crater, by agents in black, whom Maggie had previously presumed to be FBI. 

She now knows them to be DEO, of course. And they had carried Supergirl off. Supergirl, who had been dead. Who  _ is _ dead, because how can even Kryptonians come back from death? 

That’s the part that Maggie doesn’t understand. That’s the part that doesn’t fit in with all her other ideas, of this situation that she has found herself in.

\---

 

As Maggie is clearing the video clips from her computer after a final playthrough, a knock on the cabinet by her desk distracts her. She turns towards the source of the noise, just as a familiar face walks in.

“Maggie.” Tameka - the admin of the NCPD forensic lab - says, waving some official-looking report in Maggie’s direction, as if that explains her unusual intrusion into the office area proper.

“I’m supposed to report the preliminary findings from the samples taken at the alien bar to Rivera straight away.” She continues, while pointing behind her in the general direction of Captain Rivera’s office. “She’s holed up in her office with some visitor, though, so I thought I would drop by and see how you were doing. Say hello, and all that.”

She waggles her eyebrows conspiratorially, waving the report again, and Maggie doesn’t need further prompting.

“Anything interesting in there?” she asks, nodding at the report while pulling out the spare chair by her desk.

“These are just preliminary results.” Tameka states, as soon as she sits down. “I’m still waiting for more extensive tests to come back in.”

“But...?”

“Well, the suspects were relatively careful in trying not to leave behind any evidence. We did find some touch DNA, though, on the shards of the containers they left behind. The state DNA database didn’t come back with a match, but we found a hit closer to home.”

“Who?” Maggie asks, impatient with the draw-out. “Name? Any identifying details?” 

Tameka shakes her head.

“No name or any other identifying information.” she says. “Our test sample matched one of the samples gathered from the attack at the L Corp press conference. You remember, the one at the park, that the downtown team handled? I think you were assigned to it, too?”

Maggie stares.

“So one of the suspects from the bar was also present at the L Corp attack?” She asks. 

Tameka nods.

“It’s a preliminary match, but I’ll be surprised if the more conclusive tests I’ve sent out for come back with anything contradicting it. I thought you might want to know the information, before it trickles down to you through official channels.”

“Thanks, Tameka.” Maggie says. “I owe you one.”

“No problem.” Tameka says, before smiling briefly. “And no, you don’t. My daughter enjoyed those tickets to the Angels game, by the way. She’s a huge fan of their starting pitcher.”

Maggie acknowledges the thanks with a nod - the tickets had been a gift from a mother whose missing son she had tracked down, months ago - and Tameka leaves her desk without further comment.

Maggie flips back to an earlier page in her notebook, and writes something down, before leaning back in her chair.

It makes a superficial sort of sense. Lena Luthor - and L Corp by extension - is famously pro-alien. M’gann’s bar is an alien haven. Considering the recent acceleration of politically-motivated assaults in National City, it isn’t far-fetched for two out of the many attacks to have a single originating point.

But  _ what _ is the originating point?

Maggie looks back at her phone, automatically scrolling down to her conversation with Lena Luthor. All of a sudden, she feels impatient for the next day, when she is due to visit the CEO herself at the L Corp headquarters, for the scheduled appointment that Lena had requested.This new information only makes her more eager to hear what Lena has to say.

As if to signify that this is to be a day of interruptions, Maggie’s desk phone rings. She looks at it with some surprise, before picking up.

“Sawyer.” the captain’s voice says in her ear. “My office. Now.”

\---

 

The visitor in the captain’s office is someone Maggie vaguely remembers walking by her desk that morning. Maggie had clocked the footsteps and registered a fellow officer’s head turning admiringly in the direction of the visitor, but had been too focused on James’ videos to pay further attention.

Now, as she takes the seat that the captain had gestured her at, the thing that strikes Maggie most is the impressive fact that this visitor manages to be shorter than Maggie herself.

“This is Agent Lane.” Captain Rivera says briefly, as Maggie looks inquiringly at her. “From the FBI. She wants to talk to you.”

The way the captain rolls her eyes as she says the organization name, and Agent Lane’s slight smile as she flashes her badge, means of course, that this must be a DEO agent, and Maggie calibrates her response accordingly.

“What do you need with me, Agent Lane?” she asks, abruptly.

“It’s Lucy.” the agent corrects, the features of her face settling back into a slight frown that seems to be habitual. “Might as well get that out of the way first. Pleased to meet you, Detective Sawyer.”

Maggie remains silent.

“We appreciate your cooperation in letting us take over the Roulette case.” Agent Lane says, after a beat. “I know it can’t have been easy, giving up something that high-profile.”

“Well, you had jurisdiction.” Maggie parrots, shrugging and smiling wryly.

A confident nod is what she gets in return.

“In any case, Detective Sawyer,” Agent Lane says, turning away from the captain to face Maggie directly now. “Our Director would like a word with you.”

Maggie blinks.

“About what?”

Agent Lane doesn’t answer her question, but she does lift her eyebrows up and down significantly.

The database, Maggie guesses, although she follows Agent Lane’s cue in not saying so aloud, settling for a shrug and a nod instead.

“I’m ready to take you to our headquarters now, if you’re free.” Agent Lane says.

Maggie looks at the captain, who eyes the ceiling again, before shrugging. 

“It’s about time for your morning break anyway, Sawyer.” she replies, to the unasked request.

Agent Lane stands up at that, and Maggie mutely follows her out of the office. 

A familiar black car awaits outside, although Maggie is a little surprised to not see another agent accompanying it. Following the example of Agents Vasquez and Demos, she had assumed that the DEO’s MO was to work in pairs.

Agent Lane gets into the driver’s seat, and gestures Maggie to the passenger side. 

“You’re not blindfolding me?” Maggie asks.

Agent Lane shakes her head. 

“If we’re going so far as to let you see the director, you might as well know how to make your way there.” she says, once she’s turned the key in the ignition.

Agent Lane seems quite happy to drive in silence, taking advantage of a rare lull in traffic to gun the car at a pace that has even Maggie a little worried. Her reticence gives Maggie more time to regroup and think, of course, but she’s also curious to suss this agent out, and see if there’s anything she’ll divulge about the DEO’s director, before Maggie actually meets her.

“No blindfolds  _ and _ no kidnapping.” she says, trying to get a conversation going. “What is going on, Agent Lane?”

“Just call me Lucy.” Agent Lane repeats again, sounding annoyed now. “It makes everything easier.” 

“What does your director want with me?” Maggie asks, ignoring that request again.

Lane, seemingly concentrating on merging into the highway, doesn’t answer until a few minutes later.

“You know.” she states. “The database.”

Maggie nods, although the agent’s gaze is fixed ahead.

“That’s what I thought.” she says. “But, why again?”

Her question comes out sharper than intended, and Agent Lane turns towards her quickly, before returning her gaze to the road. Of course. Maggie’s sudden irritation must seem odd to her.

Except that the database immediately brings to mind the thought of one person.

“What did you want to know about it?” Maggie amends, shrugging that reminder off.

“I find it interesting that you knew what you were looking at, and that you knew to bring it to us.” Lucy says.

“I’ve already given your agent - Vasquez - the reasons for why I brought it to you.”

“That explanation doesn’t satisfy me.” Lucy says.

While Maggie thinks about the confident wording of that retort, the agent exits out of the highway and turns into a smaller road leading out to the edge of the city.

“I don’t care what satisfies you.” Maggie says quietly, after a minute. “Your belief doesn’t change the facts, Director.”

For the first time since their meeting, Lane seems thrown off kilter. The slight frown that had previously had permanent residence on her face vacates, as her eyes widen, and her mouth opens.

“Or am I wrong in that guess?” Maggie asks.

She doesn’t get an answer immediately, recoiling in her seat instead, as Lane sharply veers off the road and through the thicket of trees at the edge of the city.

They drive through the thicket, through a road that Maggie wouldn’t even have known was there until Lane had turned into it. It descends quite steeply, until they’re driving through an underground tunnel. 

“Ok, damn.” Lane murmurs, looking back from the steering wheel when they have been driving through the tunnel for a few minutes. “No, you’re not wrong, and I think you know that.”

Before Maggie can get out a response, she’s surprised into silence by the tunnel suddenly widening into a lighted cavern, that looks much like an underground parking garage. 

Lane slows the car to a stop, and gets out first. Maggie follows, lingering to take in the details of the fairly blasé surroundings.

“Welcome to the headquarters of the DEO.” says Lane, waving a hand around distractedly, before striding ahead to an elevator.

After they exit the elevator, Maggie follows Lane through an almost dizzying array of hallways, all arranged at odd angles, ostensibly in a tactical design. She spots Vasquez at a fancy-looking computer terminal, when they reach an open workspace at the end of one of the hallways, but Lane leads Maggie on before she can respond to the agent’s half-sarcastic wave.

While Maggie is occupied with studying her surroundings, and trying not to be too distracted by the high-tech paraphernalia around her, the director waves her into a standard-looking office space, pulling out an empty seat.

“The aliens working for Roulette have been disappearing, okay?” she says, as soon as Maggie takes it. “Got that? That’s why we had to bring you in the last time.”

Maggie blinks at the abrupt confession, and backtracks to her previous visit here.

“You means the ones that she forced to fight for her?” she asks.

Lane nods. 

“Those too, plus others that simply used to work for her, doing off-the-record jobs.” she clarifies. “We’ve been trying to track some of them down, to see what information we can get out of them. Every time we get wind of one, though, they’ve already gone missing. Apparently, this is not the first time this has happened to Roulette’s employees, but the disappearances seem to be accelerating in the past few weeks.”

“Is that what all that hush-hush business with kidnapping me was all about?” Maggie asks.

Lane shrugs, in what might have been confirmation.

“We’re trying to let out as little information out as possible.” she says. “We can’t be sure what’s causing the disappearances, so we can’t take chances on prompting any more.” 

They were concerned about the disappearing aliens. They had brought Maggie in to help find the cause of it. 

“Why do you want to find them?” Maggie asks abruptly. “So you can lock them up again?”

Lane actually honest-to-goodness rolls her eyes upwards.

“So we can bring them back.” she retorts, her tone sharp. “Wherever they are disappearing to, chances are that it’s nowhere good.The DEO has been doing the due follow-up, of course, and I’ve been looking into my own contacts in the military, but we could use an official liaison at the NCPD too. That’s you, in case I haven’t made it obvious enough.”

She’s obviously short-tempered, this director, on top of being surprisingly combative with little provocation. Somehow, it sets Maggie at ease. For the first time, she finds herself considering that maybe Captain Rivera had a real point, in advising her to co-operate with the DEO.

“This is a turnaround from what I heard you’ve done to aliens in the past.” she prods. “What gives, Director?”

“I wasn’t around back then.” Lane snaps. “What I  _ do _ know is that the organization has changed a lot since then.”

Maggie taps her fingers silently against the seat of her chair, while she considers the director’s previous words of needing an official NCPD liaison. It makes sense that they would ask for her, as she had taken point on the case. 

What she’s still unsure of, though, is how much she’s willing to trust such a secretive institution, with such a sketchy past, despite its peculiar leader.

“You know, my father was the one who ordered the murder of Supergirl.” Lane says abruptly, shattering Maggie’s train of thought.

That truly startles Maggie, and she looks at Lane with widened eyes, wondering if the director has somehow found out what Maggie’s own morning had been occupied with. Lane, however, doesn’t seem smug or knowing. She simply gazes down at the table between them, brows aligned downwards.

“Four-star general.” she says. “His word might as well have been law, in that situation.”

She trails fingers down her desktop, absentmindedly, as she continues. “I’m coming to find, though, that I disagree with a lot of things he did.”

“You know, I had some reservations about Supergirl myself.” Maggie finds herself saying, surprised out of her usual reservation by Lane’s unexpected candor.

Lane looks at her inquiringly.

“She worked without oversight.” Maggie elaborates. “She was a positive influence on National City, and of course there are some crimes the law’s arms can’t reach, but there was always this doubt, at the back of my mind. There is always the possibility of injustice when someone takes the law into their own hands. I guess that fear didn’t turn out to be entirely unfounded.”

Lane nods slightly, but waits for Maggie to continue.

“But, even with that factored in, how is an organization that locks aliens up without a fair trial any better?” Maggie asks.

Lane frowns.

“Some of the aliens we apprehend have committed heinous crimes.” she points out. “We don’t even have laws to cover some of the types of destructive activities they’re engaged in. My father would say they deserved the punishment they got.”

Maggie shakes her head.

“Maybe we need to write new laws, then.”

Lane scoffs at that. 

“Do you really think it’s as easy as all that?”

“Does that really justify taking justice out of the hands of the system altogether?” Maggie retorts in turn.

Lane looks away.

“My  _ father _ would say that they deserved it.” she amends her earlier statement. “I should have added beforehand, that  _ I  _ think there are...better ways.”

Maggie waits.

“Maybe I should show you-” Lane starts. 

She trails off, though, looking conflicted, and turns her head right and left. The gesture reminds Maggie of the way a young child would look at a parent or guardian for guidance, when asked a difficult or unusual question. She suddenly gets the feeling that Lane is not any surer of what’s happening, than Maggie herself.

“We...this organization...has changed a lot over the years.” Lane says, eventually, in a different tone, as if that wasn’t what she had originally been about to divulge. “I didn’t start that shift, but I want to keep it going, and I can’t do it alone.”

“I’ll help in any way I can with the Sinclair case.” Maggie says. She doesn’t feel she can truthfully promise anything more, at the moment.

The young director of the DEO, so young that Maggie wonders how she attained such a position so quickly, nods.

“A little faith, detective.” she says, her voice suddenly grave. “That’s all I ask.”

Maggie gives a shallow nod, not bothering to reply to such a trite statement.

Lane nods her out, and when Maggie turns towards the door, Agent Vasquez is waiting there, leaning just a little against the doorframe. 

Vasquez leads her out, although Maggie doesn’t actually need the guide, having memorized the turns and angles of the hallways that Lucy had taken her down. 

“So you’ve met the director.” Vasquez starts.

Maggie glances at the smug-looking agent next to her.

“Like you weren’t the one who put the thought of this rendezvous into her head, in the first place.” she guesses.

It had been a shot in the dark, but the agent lets out a way-too-amused snort in confirmation.

“I thought you two might get along.” she replies.

It’s Maggie that snorts, then, and Vasquez looks at her curiously.

“We spent most of the time arguing about our views on the law’s protection of aliens.” Maggie says, sobering up. “I’m still not sure that we see eye to eye.”

“Well, see if from her point of view.” Vasquez advises after a while, when Maggie doesn’t elaborate beyond that. “Lucy was raised by a general with a stick the size of Alaska up his ass. I don’t think she had much of an opportunity to question her dad’s views on aliens, until Supergirl saved her life.”

_ Huh. _ Supergirl had saved the life of the director of the DEO? Was that why Lane had brought her death up?

Maggie shoots another glance aside at Vasquez, who doesn’t even look repentant for having let out that information. Before she can question the agent further, though, Vasquez stops at the end of a hallway that Maggie knows is still a few turns away from the exit.

“That’s my station.” Vasquez says, pointing out to the terminal that she had waved at Maggie from earlier, the one rigged with three swanky looking monitors that Maggie is pretty sure would make the IT guys at NCPD drool. “I think you can take it from here, Maggie.”

There’s amusement, and a bit of teasing in her eyes, as she walks away. Maggie shakes her head at the obvious challenge, and reverse tracks her way back to the underground exit, where a soporific guard waves her out, to a waiting van and a silent DEO agent-cum-chauffeur, ready to take Maggie back to the NCPD.

Maggie’s thoughts, though, are far from the station. They are speeding west instead, to the portside, to a certain warehouse by the docks.

\---

 

The docks are unusually cold for the time of the year, when Maggie makes her way down there in the afternoon, after she had checked back in with the station. 

She walks behind the open front-facing warehouses, to the row of hidden ones at the back, all of which are already closed for the season. The particular one she’s heading for looks to be quite securely boarded up, as Maggie reaches it. Some fiddling with the shipping door at the back, though, and some practical application of the lockpicking trick she had learned from her stint at the Gotham MCU, and Maggie is in.

The warehouse seems empty, but the unusually hot temperature of the interior, combined with the chill outside, tells Maggie that she’s probably not off her mark by looking for her target here.

As she walks towards the front of the warehouse, a voice rings out.

“Cold.” 

Maggie circles around slowly, trying to pinpoint the direction of the voice and calm her own heartbeat at the same time.

“Warmer.” the voice calls out again, sing-song, as she walks in the direction of her best guess.

The instructions continue in sporadic fashion, as Maggie tracks her way through half the warehouse, getting frustrated with the game.

Just as she is about to give up, the figure she had been after suddenly appears in front of her, in a hiss of smoke and flame.

“Scorcher.” Maggie nods at the Infernian she had been looking for, getting a growl and grimace for the nickname, the alien’s annoyance seemingly compounded by the fact that Maggie isn’t the least bit ruffled from being toyed with so.

“I thought it might be you that she’d send after me.” There’s a theatricality to the way the Infernian speaks, but there is nothing fake about the smoke curling up her arms. “Tell me, groupie, how much did it take to pay you off?”

Maggie deliberately maintains eye contact, trying not to look surprised by the question that has, in fact, thrown her for a loop.

“Who are you referring to?” she asks. “Who is supposed to be sending me after you?”

“You know who!” the volatile alien hisses. “She’s been gathering up all my buddies. I guess it’s about time she sent someone after me. To shut us up, keep us from saying anything to the feds.”

“Do you mean Roulette?” Maggie asks, naming the culprit who is, after all, the most likely option.

She jumps back, as a sudden tendril of flame shoots towards her.

“I didn’t tell you her name.” Scorcher growls. “So you  _ are _ in cahoots with her. I’ve seen you slinking around the bar...keeping tabs on us, reporting back to her.”

“You’ve got the wrong idea.” Maggie says evenly. “I care about the community, aliens and humans both. I’m working to stop Roulette, and others like her.”

“Big words.” Scorcher scoffs, and now three more blasts of flame shoot towards Maggie, one of them grazing her shoulder and making her draw a sharp breath. “If you’re stopping her, how come more and more of my friends are disappearing every damn week?”

“I can help make it stop.” Maggie says, putting her hands up. “If you can just tell me what you kn-”

“Fuck off!”

The words are yelled out with fury, and now there is a blinding torrent of flame chasing Maggie, as she runs for cover behind empty metal crates. The flames seem almost prehensile, curving around the containers to follow her tracks, even as she leaps from their path.

“Why don’t you lot just leave us alone?” The growled question echoes over the hiss of the flames.

Maggie opens her mouth to argue, and inhales a lungful of smoke instead. She gags, and tries to gauge the direction of the rear exit to head for, but her flight path had been too chaotic to retrace her steps.

“Maybe because large-scale public destruction like this is what results when we do.” another voice answers.

A loud hiss follows the words. As the fire around her clears, Maggie recognizes it to be the sound of an industrial size fire extinguisher at work.

When she fights her way through the smoke, hacking, there is one furious Infernian drenched in white foam, and one Alex Danvers standing with a fire extinguisher in her hand. In her other hand is a strange-looking gun, pointed directly at Scorcher.

“This one doesn’t react to heat.” Alex says, wiggling the hand holding the weapon just a little, when Scorcher raises one arm threateningly, “So don’t even think about it.”

If Scorcher had been pissed before, she looks absolutely furious right now.

“Should have known you would bring a buddy along.” she says, directing the scathing words at Maggie. “Too scared to face me alone, crooked cop?”

“I didn’t call her.” Maggie says, shooting an annoyed look at Alex, who looks only a little chastised. “I really did mean what I said, about trying to help you. Just answer some questions.”

“Like hell I will, while she’s pointing that thing at me.” Scorcher growls.

Maggie turns to Alex. 

“What are you even doing here?”

“I wanted to check if you were okay after last week.” Alex says. Her gaze is still trained on Scorcher, but a faint flush is creeping up her neck, on the side facing Maggie.

“I told you to leave me alone.”

“You were almost delirious when I left you, Maggie! Aren’t I allowed to be worried about that?” 

“If you two are done with your spat now,” the Infernian intervenes sarcastically, before Maggie can reply in the emphatic negative, “Get. The hell. Off my turf!”

“Alex, put down your weapon.” Maggie says, deciding to shelve other matters for now. “She’s not the enemy.”

“Not a chance.”

“Alex, you have lied to me.” Maggie says evenly. “You’ve made me take the fall for you with my department more than once, and I’m pretty sure you made me an accessory to treason. So, for once, listen to me and put that weapon down.”

Ages pass while Alex purses her lips, and Maggie holds her breath. In the end, though, Alex lowers her weapon, accompanied by a hiss of fire exhaled by Scorcher. Maggie wonders, inconsequentially, whether the Infernian had been holding her breath in trepidation, too.

“Fine.” Scorcher says grudgingly, when Alex’s arm holding the weapon is parallel with the side of her body. “What did you want to know, groupie?”

“Who’s taking your friends?” Maggie asks immediately. “ _ Where _ are they taking you?”

“You seemed to already have the answer to the first one.” comes the laconic reply. “It’s Ms. Roulette, alright, wanting to make sure we don’t mouth off to the feds about everything she’s been putting us through.”

“You mean what she’s putting your buddies in your little fight club through?” Maggie asks.

Scorcher rolls her eyes at the term.

“It was just the losers before.” she says, shrugging, and Maggie feels something recoil in her stomach at the way the words are casually uttered. “A couple of slackers here and there, from the bottom of the rungs, and some dopes who couldn’t pay her back. Now, it’s like everyone’s being taken.” 

“Where are they taking them?” Maggie repeats, making a note to circle back to that last point later.

Before Scorcher can answer, there is a deafening sound from the front of the warehouse. Maggie whirls to look behind her, to see the locked front door come crashing down, as if battered in. Silhouetted in the light pouring in from outside are five armed figures. 

Maggie, gun in her hand, chances a glance back, to see Alex looking as shocked as her, and Scorcher looking absolutely furious. 

“You tricked me!” the Infernian spits out, her eyes wild. “I should’ve known better than to take humans at their word.”

“No.” Maggie breathes out.

Before she can say much more, though, there’s something shooting out at Scorcher from the direction of the intruders, some kind of pellet that has her staggering back on impact. Her flames fizzle out immediately, and she stumbles to her knees. 

Alex immediately kicks a metal container in front of them, as Maggie ducks to cover Scorcher’s prone body, gun out and safety unlatched. As she’s debating whether to open fire, Alex decides the matter for everyone by ducking from behind the cover to shoot at their attackers. A choked scream echoes through the warehouse, as at least one of her shots hits its mark.

Before Maggie can follow her lead, a returning hail of fire ensues from their advancing opponents. Alex unloads an entire clip’s worth of bullets in their direction, but it only seems to slow them down. Like an avalanche, inexorably, they zero in on Scorcher, still crouched behind Maggie.

Maggie kicks out at one of them as soon as they’re near enough, sending him stumbling. Before she can do further damage, a second goon shoots something at her, that has her bones feeling like they’ve been turned to liquid. The feeling only lasts for moments, but as Maggie scrambles upwards, there is another shot, this time at her arm. It has Maggie grunting and collapsing, and then Scorcher is being bodily grabbed from behind her, and dragged away. 

Maggie tries to crawl towards the retreating figure on the ground, blinking and trying to focus on Scorcher’s wild eyes looking back at her.

“Do something, cop.” Scorcher rasps out, voice almost gone. “All that talk about... community... caring about us... help me!”

“Hold on.” Maggie says through pain-gritted teeth, finally stumbling to her feet, aware of Alex swiftly reloading next to her.

Three of the attackers come back for them before Alex can fire. One of them swings at Alex with a bat, sending her reeling, the weapon tipping out of her hands. The other two restrain Maggie and slam her bodily against the ground. Her gun flies out of her hand, too, upon impact.

“You promised!” Maggie can hear Scorcher yelling out, each word getting harsher with panic. “Don’t let them take me. Please!”

“Where?” Maggie yells back, even as she fights against the two women that are holding her down. “Where are they taking you, Scorcher?”

“Cad-mpf!” Scorcher’s voice stops mid-word, as if someone had slapped a hand over her mouth.

This is followed by a howl of agony from Scorcher’s direction, issuing from one of the men restraining her.

“She bit me!”

“CADMUS!” Scorcher howls out amidst the distraction. “They’re taking me to Cad-”

Then, there is the sound of fist against face, of bone crunching, and even as Maggie fights against her own battle, she can hear Scorcher wheezing in pain, as the fleeing two drag her out. Outside, Maggie can hear a vehicle purring to life, and registers it peeling away moments later from the warehouse, no doubt with the abducted alien bundled inside.

After that, Maggie has her own skin to worry about, and Alex’s as well, as they find themselves fighting off the three remaining attackers, one of whom currently has Maggie in an iron hold.

Maggie manages to push back against the hold enough to get up on her knees, only to be sent reeling back, by a fist to her gut. She can see Alex hiss from beside her, leonine, and sock the woman who had just punched Maggie, only to be hit by a retaliating strike from the woman's companion. 

Maggie slides across the ground towards the bat-wielding guy coming at Alex from behind, sticking a leg out to trip him up, before jumping up to jam an elbow into his side. From the corner of her eyes, she can see Alex whirling between the other two assailants, blocking and striking with fairly tornadic force. Maggie soon finds herself distracted again, though, by the now-enraged bat-wielder. 

He swings at her side, and she stumbles and sees stars again, even though she had evaded enough of the impact to avoid broken bones. Another swing, but this time he’s slow, and Maggie grabs at the bat, wincing upon impact. She wrenches it from its wielder and - knowing her own reach with it to be useless, against the much larger man - throws it behind a stack of cardboard boxes, hearing it clattering away into the darkness.

“Maggie, run!” she can hear Alex shout, as Maggie blocks another punch. Alex’s voice seems to be burbling, as if she’s trying to speak through water or - Maggie’s heart clenches - through  _ blood. _

“Take your own advice.” she retorts.

Then they are back to back, being circled by their three opponents like animals being caged in, and now is probably not the best time for Maggie to note how good the heat of Alex’s back feels against her body, warm like summer days, warm like coming home after a long day and hanging her jacket up.

Before Maggie can regroup from that observation, Alex is shooting a punch at the one brave enough to approach closest to them, sending the woman stumbling back and tripping over a fallen crate. Maggie would high-five her for that excellent use of environmental factors, but she finds herself engaged in fisticuffs, of all things, with the other woman, as the ex-bat-wielder comes for them from behind. 

Another round of blows, and Maggie hears herself grunt, as she stumbles and hit the ground again. She tries to claw her way back up, but can feel Alex bending over her, holding her down protectively.

“Get off her.” a rough voice grunts from above them, and then Maggie can feel the muted impact of blow after blow, as Alex hunches over her, taking the brunt of them.

“No Alex--” Maggie tries to say. “Run. Please. You have to run.”

Her words come out more like grunts, though, through the haze that seems to have overtaken her brain from all the hits. 

There is the impact of another blow, and she can feel Alex sag against her, as if unable to hold herself up anymore. Maggie’s groping hands find her, and draw her down closer, trying to shield her from further attacks.

Jesus, she’s good in a scrap, and Alex is  _ great _ , but five against two, with the weapon advantage meted to the other side? Even with her brain at half its regular function, Maggie can put two and together, and come up with imminent death.

Then, there’s a crash, and light fills the warehouse, blindingly bright even through Maggie’s almost-closed eyes. Maggie tries to open her eyes again, trying to hold out against the soporific effect of her injuries, and registers the roof gaping open, as if someone had crashed in. There’s Alex’s limp and shallowly breathing body on top of her, preventing her from lifting herself up to take a better look, even if she was capable of the exertion.

Her ears, though, faintly register exclamations of surprise, followed by the sound of punches and ensuing groans. Maggie can hear three other bodies hit the ground, can  _ feel  _ the impact of them biting the dust. 

Soon after, something as a strong as an iron bar grabs hold around her stomach, almost making her convulse. She finds herself tilting down, as whoever’s holding her reaches down again, for the unconscious Alex.

“I’ve got you.” Maggie hears a voice say. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Then, there is a cool breeze, and Maggie finds herself slipping out of consciousness

\---

 

She comes to again, briefly, when her body impacts against wood, sending waves of pain through her frame.

“Sorry!” comes a mortified whisper from above, as Maggie grunts. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

A half-conscious Maggie finds herself being lifted gently onto a heavenly soft surface - a bed - and faintly registers another body being deposited next to her. She forces her eyes open long enough to see Alex’s prone form laid out before her, before succumbing to wonderful oblivion again, when gentle fingers fly over her forehead, as if checking for injury.

When she comes to again, some time must have passed, because the room she is in is considerably darker, her wounds have been dressed, and her body hurts much, much less. Still lethargic, and stiff from the long rest, Maggie shifts in the bed, as her ears catch snatches of a conversation going on outside the door.

“-be there right away, Ms. Gra-” 

More murmurs, and then-

“Yes, I know they’re waiting for us...yes...yes, I really am sorry, Ms. Grant...uh-huh...yes, I’ll be right there.”

Then a click, like a flip phone being closed shut, and more snatches of conversation.

“-stra, I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t think of where else to bring them both.”

“ I can look after them until you return, but I can’t keep them here without M’gann’s approval, Kara.”

“-need to go, the L Corp Board of Directors are waiting for me, I’m already late.”

“-ry well, I will keep them here until M’gann returns. She can decide what to do.”

A few minutes later, there is a warm towel wiping at Maggie’s brow, disturbing her peaceful slip back into slumber.

“Do not.” a voice admonishes, as she moves restlessly against the contact, trying to stop it from bothering her, so that she can go back to sleep. 

Maggie feels her body being propped up against the headboard of what seems to be a bed, as she groans out a protest against the pain that ensues. A strong hand presses down on her shoulders, arresting her movements, as the towel continues to wipe away at her face.

“We have tried to patch you up as well as we could, but you shouldn’t move around so.”

Maggie murmurs something that is surely unintelligible, her brain too hazy for coherence. 

“I do not know much about how your human bodies work.” the voice is saying now. “I’m fairly sure, though, that your fragile skin will tear even more, if you thrash around like that. Take a leaf out of your friend’s tree, and lie still.”

Maggie blinks, feels the heat of Alex’s slumbering body next to her, and then looks up, to try and focus on the blurry face that seems to be peering down at her.

The blurry mouth moves, the voice just a little anxious now.

“Perhaps I will tell M’gann to come back early. She will know what to do.”

The out-of-focus face retreats after that.

Left to her own devices, Maggie reaches out, with shaking hands and half-blind eyes, towards the body laid out next to her. Alex seems immobile but, as Maggie’s scrabbling hand finds her face, and curves into a cheek, she suddenly exhales a choked breath.

“Alex?” Maggie manages to get out, too gone to say anything more substantial.

“-ara?” Alex is mumbling.

“What?” Maggie asks, confused

“Kara.” Alex mumbles again, but more distinctly this time. “Thought I heard...”

As Maggie pauses in surprise, even through her stupor. There’s the sound of sniffling coming from Alex’s direction.

“Maggie?”

“Uh-huh.” Maggie mumbles back. “It’s me.”

“I miss her, Maggie.” Alex is saying, in a broken voice. “I heard her, I thought I heard her. I thought I was over it, but it  _ hurts _ , it hurts so much.”

Maggie moves, though it seems like ages pass before her body, protesting and hurting every step of the way, makes contact with Alex’s side. 

Alex’s arms immediately curve into her, clinging fiercely to the first limb they come in contact with.

“At least you’re okay, Maggie.” she says, sounding as if that’s the last thing tethering her to reality. “You’re okay.”

“Yeah, I am.” Maggie murmurs through her own fatigue, unable to do anything more than lean into the hands clinging to her arm, so that their bodies are angled up together. “Thanks to you.” 

Alex just clings to her and lets out a sniffle, before going quiet again. Maggie lets the warmth of their near-embrace lull her back to sleep, too tired to think about anything else for the time being.

\---

 

When Maggie wakes up again, she can tell it’s dawn by the light coming in through the window, and from the time glowing on the two phones laid by the bedside. She turns and blinks at a fitfully mumbling Alex clinging to her, but can’t think about it much further, before M’gann rushes in through the door of the bedroom.

“Maggie!” M’gann exclaims sotto-voce, casting a wary look at the still asleep Alex, who tightens her grip around Maggie’s arm at the noise, her fingers twitching in a pantomime of fiddling with a gun.

Maggie looks around before replying, suddenly recognizing that the room she is in as the spare bedroom that M’gann keeps above her bar. Maggie remembers a few times previously when M’gann had allowed her to sleep here overnight, after Maggie had stayed late to help out with the bar.

“You...”  Maggie clears her throat, and asks again, “You took care of us.”

Alex groans and sits up at her words too, blinking blearily first at Maggie, and then at M’gann, before her eyes shoot wide and she makes to spring out of the bed.

“No, you don’t!” M’gann says, sternly. “Ash tells me you almost had your rib broken. You are getting _at least_ a few more hours of rest before you go anywhere.”

“I need to get back.” Alex mumbles, “The boys...they’ll be looking for me. I need to go.”

“You need rest.” M’gann says firmly, “You were  _ bleeding.  _ You and Maggie will stay here until you heal.”

Alex pushes herself up, hulking her shoulders like she’s going to argue, but Maggie’s hand find them by instinct.

“It’s okay.” Maggie says, feeling the shoulders hunker back down under her touch. “She’s my friend. She won’t hurt you.”

“I wasn’t-” Alex starts defensively, before falling silent and sinking back against the headboard.

M’gann sounds a little put out, when she speaks again.

“I swear, Maggie, if you weren’t my favorite human-” she begins, and trails off when Alex cocks up a confused head from next to Maggie. “Just ...stay here for now, and try to stay out of trouble.”

“Are you the one who saved us from those guys?” Alex asks, still sounding a little disoriented. “You can fly?”

“Among other things.” M’gann mutters, and Maggie wouldn’t have caught the evasion in that answer, if she hadn’t been half-expecting it.

“What other things-” Alex begins, but M’gann puts up a hand, looking out of sorts.

“Enough.” she says. “Both of you. Rest.”

“My work-” Maggie says, but M’gann points to her phone on the table.

“I think you’ll find a text from your captain there,” she says, “Ordering you not to come in for the rest of the week. I dropped a note at the station about your injuries.”

While Maggie checks her phone, and finds M’gann’s statement to be true indeed, the Martian in question turns on a TV screen overhead, where it automatically flicks to the Catco Worldwide news channel. 

“Now...” M’gann draws out, handing the remote to Maggie, after throwing a concerned frown at Alex, who seems to be looking down and pulling at threads on the bedsheet. “ _ Rest. _ ”

“Can’t promise anything.” Maggie quips, but leans back against the headboard tiredly, as M’gann exits the room.

She stares almost vacantly at the TV screen for a few minutes, unwilling to exert herself when her body has finally got the rest it had been screaming for, for the past few weeks. On the screen, there’s some sort of parade being broadcast live, with President Luthor leading it. His wife, son and mother are by his side, but his sister is conspicuously absent. That observation nudges at something in Maggie’s brain. 

Right, the interview with Lena. That’s scheduled for today evening.

“Change it.” Alex’s raspy voice comes from her side.

Maggie blinks at the unexpected request, but acquiesces. She flips channels until she lands on one playing an old sitcom, and lays the remote down by her side, when no further protest issues from Alex.

A few minutes of silence, watching some couple argue at each other on-screen, and then-

“Are you still angry with me?” Alex’s question comes out in a whisper, half-vulnerable and half-defensive.

Yes.” Maggie says, although maybe it’s her wounds making her woozy, but she finds it hard to remember why right now. 

“I didn’t want to lie to you.” Alex’s words are so rushed that they stumble on top of one another. “I promise, Maggie, I wasn’t trying to make a fool out of you. it’s just...this is so hard...and I don’t even know who to trust.”

“You saved my life.” Maggie replies, unable to reply directly to Alex’s words without saying something overtly revealing again. “For the third time now. Not going to lie, Alex... that’s definitely making me reconsider things.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you saved mine too.” Alex offers, and really, how is Maggie supposed to hold out against such a ridiculously sappy declaration?

“I need answers, Alex.”

“I’ll do my best.” Alex says, sounding tired.

“Those people who took Scorcher...the Infernian.” Maggie says. “Who were they?”

Alex shakes her head.

“I don’t know.” She says. “I was just following you.”

“You have no idea?” Maggie presses.

“Maggie,” Alex sighs, “You know as well as I do that there’s a whole lot of people out there who have it out for aliens. I can’t possibly narrow them down without any information to go on.”

Maggie closes her eyes and sags against the headboard in frustration, wincing at the pain from the impact.

“It’s ridiculous.” she mutters. “They’ve been getting bolder with this guy elected. Afraid of people from light years away, just because they punch harder than us, or don’t bleed as easy, or don’t die as fast.”

“I killed a Kryptonian once.” Alex says, tiredly. “Stabbed her straight through. Even she bled, all red and easy.”

Maggie’s eyes fly open.

“A Kryptonian?” she asks, “But they can’t ...nothing can...”

She remembers Supergirl, and falls silent.

Alex shrugs, looking put out again.

“I guess there’s a downfall out there waiting for everyone.”

“Okay, Hamlet.” Maggie says, and Alex turns to smile at her then, sheepishly.

“We’ll find her, you know.” she says, creases appearing on her forehead. “That Infernian of yours. I’ll help you find her.”

Maggie looks down, unable to meet Alex’s eyes, as the memory of her failure invades her self-possession.

“Hey.” Alex speaks again. Maggie can see a hand hovering tentatively to the side of her face, as if the owner is debating whether to prop her chin up with it. “There is no way you could have anticipated that attack.”

“Anticipating the un-anticipatable kind of goes with the job territory, Danvers.” Maggie replies, more lightly than she feels. 

_ Big words _ , the Infernian had called Maggie’s sincere admission of caring for the non-human community. Maggie wonders whether the fact that her words had been sincere or not matters much, when the end result had resulted in Scorcher being abducted regardless.

“Fine, if you want to think that way.” Alex says, sounding disgruntled. “What I _ will  _ tell you is that I have complete faith that you’ll find her, and that I’ll help you do so.”

Maggie watches Alex’s brain work away, the same brain that comes up with mathematical equations on the fly, and makes working weapons out of material from star systems away, and that, for some reason, seems to have found grounding in Maggie.

“Who were you crying about, earlier?” she asks Alex, when her curiosity can’t be bridled any longer. “Who did you think you saw?”

She expects an enigmatic reply at best, perhaps even a straight up refusal. What she doesn’t expect is for Alex to sink into the bedding, and draw in a shuddering breath, as if about to cry again.

Maggie waits, not quite willing to bridge the distance between them to offer physical comfort, but also unwilling to look away and let Alex face her struggle alone.

When Alex speaks again, her voice is all thin and wobbly again, and Maggie call feel slight tremors in the sheets, from the way her body is shaking.

“My sister.” Alex replies, and one of the final pieces of the puzzle fall into place for Maggie.

\---

 

It’s almost midday, and Alex is fast asleep, when a restless Maggie tiptoes out of the spare bedroom. She heads down to the bar, to find that the broken window from the day of the attack has been replaced, but that the place seems to still be closed for business. A furtive scan of the area confirms M’gann’s absence, propelling Maggie onwards in her silent creep towards the exit.

The woman who  _ is  _ lounging by the counter, the one whom Maggie recognizes as the alien who had tended to them the day before - Ash? - looks at her curiously from behind overlarge glasses. Almost immediately, though, she turns back to the tablet she had been tapping at, seeming supremely disinterested as Maggie slips out. 

Maggie intends to make for the bus stop at the intersection, but does a double-take when she sees her own bike parked in the bar’s parking lot, next to a familiar banged-up Ducati. I Internally thanking M’gann for her forethought, she mounts her T100, grunting when both old and new injuries protest. M’gann must have flown the bike up from where Maggie had parked it by the docks.

Maggie smiles ruefully. When she had first exited the bar, her plan had been to head to her own apartment, wash up, and get some rest in the comfort of her own space. Now, with the memory of Scorcher’s final words being renewed in her head by the sight of the returned bike, she guns the bike in the opposite direction, towards the highway.

\---

 

Vasquez rakes her eyes half-disinterestedly over Maggie, when she bursts in through the DEO headquarters, after a small argument with the underground security over credentials.

“You’re not even in the worst shape of anyone I’ve seen enter through that door.” she says by way of greeting, at the end of her perusal. “You come pretty close, though.”

“Your director.” Maggie says. “Can I speak to her?”

Vasquez blinks.

“Can you make an appointment to speak with her?” she asks. “Yes.”

“I think I’ve got info for you on the disappearances.” Maggie says, more insistently. “I don’t think it can wait.”

Vasquez sighs, and texts something into her phone, before leading Maggie down a familiar hallway, showing her into the same office that she had entered that morning.

Director Lucy Lane looks up from the tablet she had been thumbing her way through, and her eyes widen, as Maggie walks in through the door. 

“What happened?” She asks, sounding genuinely worried as she takes in the bandages littering Maggie’s frame.

Maggie waves the question away.

“I came here to tell you something new about the Roulette case.” she says, before Lane can press the other line of inquiry. “And to ask for a favor.”

The aloof and vaguely pissed off look returns to Lane’s face again, as she recovers from her initial surprise. Maggie wonders if she keeps it there to put people off balance on purpose.

“Quid pro quo.” Lane says, as she brings a chair to Maggie. “What have you got for us?”

“Cadmus.” Maggie gets out in a rush, wincing as she takes the offered seat. “They’re taking the aliens to somewhere called Cadmus. I intercepted them taking one.”

“You intercepted them?” Lane’s eyes narrow. “How?”

“I did stakeouts on a couple of Sinclair’s fight shindigs before.” Maggie admits. “I’d seen this Infernian taking part in a couple of them, and I knew she liked to hang out by the docks, so I thought I’d talk to her... see if she could tell me anything.”

Lane’s breath whistles out through her nose.

“You look like shit.” she says bluntly, looking Maggie over again. “Is this all from trying to stop her from being taken?”

She gestures at Maggie’s injuries as she asks that.

“Some of it is from trying to stop her, period.” Maggie grumbles, remembering the burns, before biting her tongue. She barely knows Lane, after all. No need to give her a blow-by-blow runthrough.

“We need to get you to the medical bay.” Lane announces.

Maggie shakes her head and stands up.

“Don’t be stupid, Maggie.”

Maggie blinks, both at the use of her first name, and the fact that Lane actually sounds kind of worried and annoyed.

“I’m fine.” she says, “Someone already patched me up.”

Lane shrugs, as if to say “Well, I tried.”

“So, do you know what that means?” Maggie asks. When Lane continues to look blank, she prompts further “Cadmus. Do you know what that means?”

“Other than something from a Greek history lecture?” Lane asks slowly. “No.”

Maggie feels herself slumping back in her chair without really meaning to.

“That’s all I was able to find out.” she says, straightening up again as her injuries protest the impact. “Before they took her, and I got-”

She waves a hand down her body, and Lane winces.

“Well, I might not know what it is, but it’s one more thing we know that we need to look into, and fast.” she says. “I’m still waiting on some other lines of inquiry that I made. Any new information is a step forward at this time.” 

She smiles at Maggie when she says this, tentatively. Maggie finds herself -well, not wanting to smile back, but she doesn’t feel so doubtful anymore. There’s something about Susan Vasquez’s brusque communicativeness, and Lucy Lane’s abrasive concern, that makes her feel more at ease about this organization, than their previous professional demeanour had. It makes it easier for her to believe that they’re just as out of their depth against this new threat, as she is. 

It makes it easier to believe that they can work together to fight it.

“There’s something else, Director.”

“Lucy.” the director says again, sounding disgruntled. “What is it?"

Maggie frowns.

“I’m not sure this is related...Lucy.” She admits. “But...did you hear about the attack at the L Corp press conference, on the news, from a few weeks ago? And the attack on the alien bar at Parson and Simmons, from a couple of days ago? Turns out one of the sets of DNA we gathered at each scene is a match.”

Lucy frowns.

“You think they might be connected?” she asks.

Maggie shrugs.

“We’ve seen a marked increase in these sort of attacks since the election last year.” she says. “President Luthor’s ...invective, isn’t exactly helping things. But, at the same time, three attacks within a short time span, and two of them with matching DNA...that makes me suspicious.”

Lucy nods. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” she says, now looking worried.

“I need to get going.” Maggie says, getting up. “I have an appointment to keep.”

“But what did you need?” Lucy asks, suddenly focusing back in on her and circling back to Maggie’s original pronouncement.

Maggie takes a deep breath. Here’s the dicey part. She’d been hoping the Cadmus tip would sweeten the deal, but-

She tells Lucy what she needs, and sees her eyes widen, first in shock, and then in irritation.

“No.” Lucy is shaking her head. “No way.”

“You can have it back by tomorrow night.” Maggie says.

“There are procedures!” Lucy snaps. “You can’t just walk in and ask to borrow it! We can’t let something that valuable slip out of our hands again.”

Maggie casts around for something to say, because all that’s threatening to burst out of her is an annoyed rant about being held to policy and procedure when she - and Alex _ ,  _ god,  _ Alex -  _ had risked their lives to get this information.

“All I’m asking is for you to show me a little faith.” she says, finally, and knows she has succeeded, when Lucy draws in a sharp breath.

A few minutes later, Maggie Sawyer walks out of the DEO to her bike, the alien database snug in her backpack.

\---

 

When she finally returns to the city from DEO headquarters, Maggie has just enough time to stop by her apartment and get cleaned up, before her evening appointment with Lena Luthor.

Maggie had initially been annoyed, when Lena had requested that the appointment take place at L Corp headquarters, instead of the station, as was standard. However, in the face of Captain Rivera’s ultimatum regarding her mandatory vacation, it works out quite well, and Maggie finds herself walking into L Corp’s penthouse office with a feeling of high-strung anticipation.

Lena Luthor allows only a brief round of pleasantries, before getting to the crux of the meeting.

“Maybe you’ve read one of the various puff pieces on me, Detective Sawyer, and know that my foray into entrepreneurship started in a garage.” she says, waving a careless arm at a stack of magazines by the sofa, most of them portraying her face on the front cover.

Maggie nods in acknowledgment, but waits silently for Lena to continue. With any other high-flying CEO, she might have suspected such an introduction to lead to unsubstantial bragging, but the woman in front of her hasn’t wasted a single sentence on useless trivia, in the few times that Maggie has crossed paths with her at M’gann’s bar. 

“L Corp was the end result of that venture.” Lena states now. “Before all that, though, I was an intern under my brother, at Luthor Industries.”

She smiles, a little bitterly. 

“What can I say? Lex liked to keep it in the family.”

Maggie schools her expression to neutrality, as she considers this new information and why it would be relevant. She vaguely remembers reading about Luthor Industries in the papers. It had been the military weapons contracting company that Lex Luthor had been CEO of, that he had been forced to divest prior to his inauguration. 

“Lex knew my talents lay more in engineering than management.” Lena continues. “Every summer during my undergrad, I helped out with the R&D team, with both the software and hardware divisions. I grew pretty familiar with the design patterns and attack configurations of the weaponry we designed.”

“And...?”

“I recognized the attack patterns on the weapons used against me at the park.” Lena says simply. “It was something very similar to an R&D project that I was a team member on, during my second summer working there. I got a look at the weapons used, too, when your team dragged them out of the woods, after the attack. They’d been modified and upgraded in structure, but the bones of them were still recognizable.”

“But your brother dissolved Luthor Industries.” Maggie says. “All the assets were liquidated.”

Lena nods in acceptance.

“The knowledge of the design, though...” - she taps the side of her head with a wry smile - “...that stays here. And in secure servers available only to the Luthor family.”

“Define that range, please.” Maggie requests, remembering vaguely from the newspapers that the Luthor clan was quite vast in sprawl.

“Only the immediate family.” Lena clarifies. “My, my mother and my brother were the only ones who had access to the complete plans, along with my father before he died. Other members of the family had access on a need-to-know basis. The other engineers at Luthor Industries only worked on piecemeal designs. Like I said, my brother liked to keep it in the family.”

“Is there any way that the plans could have been leaked?” Maggie asks, feeling a little out of her depth with the technology that seems to come to Lena as easily as breathing. “Or hacked.”

Lena looks a little impatient when she replies.

“That’s what I’ve been arriving at. Ever since I recognized the weaponry, I’ve been personally combing through our servers myself, trying to find a leak to the outside.”

Her lips twists bitterly.

“I found more than I bargained for, detective. Not only did I find that the information had been accessed from a remote location, but I also found that other files in storage had been accessed. Files containing something new that my brother had just completed, before he got it into his head to enter the realm of politics.”

Suddenly, it becomes clear to Maggie why Lena had called her here.

“The bioweapon unleashed at the bar.” she says, “The one that was designed to target alien genetic codes.”

Lena nods, face gaunt and almost entirely drained of blood. 

“That was it.” she says, “Along with plans on the most effective locations in the city to use it. The bar was right at the top of the list. After all, it’s the only gathering place of its kind in National City.”

“So you were the one who tipped M - Megan off?” Maggie asks, to clarify. “The anonymous phone call was from you?”

“Kara - I believe you know her too? - introduced me to the bar-owner, and encouraged me to relay my suspicions to her.”  Lena replies, with a nod. “I helped design the countermeasures that were put in place. I could reverse engineer my brother’s work just far back enough to do that much.”

Maggie sits back.

“Do you have any idea who could have hacked into your server and sent out that information?” she asks, mind already whirling with how to go about creating a shortlist of suspects.

“Well, that’s the problem.” Lena says, smiling sharply. “We have a state-of-the-art security system that was designed in house, by us. Occam’s Razor, Detective Sawyer.”

“The simplest solution, in this case, leads to your own family being implicated.” Maggie points out.

Lena simply looks resigned.

“My family had access to the servers.” she says. “The information was accessed from the servers. Every member of my family is technically skilled enough to cover up their tracks. The case against us builds itself, doesn’t it? We’re all implicated.”

And what a family, Maggie thinks, with a long history of xenophobia against the exact group victimized by the attacks.

“And yet,  _ you _ came to me with this information.” she reminds Lena.

Lena stares back at her, pale-faced and betrayed, but Maggie remains unmoved. After all, it is quite common for criminals to provide information to the police on their own crime, as a ploy to get access to classified investigation data.

“Do you think I’ve gained anything, so far, by publicly going against my brother on everything?” Lena demands, fiercely. “Do you understand that I’ve been alienated by my entire family, for who I am and what I stand for?”

And Maggie feels sympathy for this woman - and empathy, Christ,  _ empathy - _ but she also has a job to do. A job that doesn’t leave much room for leaps of faith.

“All I’m saying is we’ll have to run investigations into every member of the family.” she says. “That includes you.”

Lena nods reluctantly, sitting back.

“I’m here because Kara trusts me.” she says, her tone colder than it had been before. “She put her faith in me, and she asked me to put my faith in you. I hope you do not disappoint, Maggie Sawyer.”

Her tone doesn’t hold much confidence now, and Maggie tries not to bristle at it, or take it personally.

“We’ll look into this thoroughly.” she assures. “It will be passed on to my captain right away. In the meantime, I’m going to be questioning some of my leads about this, and see what we can find. We will eventually need you to come into the station and provide an official statement.”

Lena nods, still looking pale, and cold, and wary.

Maggie takes her leave shortly after that. Before she exits the office, though, she takes a glance backward, to find Lena already typing away into her laptop. 

_ Kara put her faith in me. _

Maggie wants to take her words at face value, wants to believe in the immense courage it must have taken, for this woman to go against everything that she had been raised up to be. It would be so easy, to blindly trust Lena Luthor. It would be the right thing to do.

The thing is, superheroes can afford to have faith in people. That’s what they do.

Maggie, by the very definition of her profession, can’t.

\---

 

When Maggie returns to the bar from L Corp, and rounds up the stairs to the spare bedroom, she finds M’gann standing over the bed, staring down a mutinous-looking Alex.

“Whatever you need to do, it can wait until you are at least partly healed from your injuries.” M’gann is informing Alex. “It’s one thing if you do this nonsense out of my sight, but now that I have seen the state you’re in, I can’t in good conscience let you leave.”

“I don’t even know who you are.” Alex mutters, hunkering down just a little, but her eyes widen as Maggie comes into view, and her mouth snaps shut.

M’gann looks back as if on cue.

“And  _ you _ .” she says, shaking her head as she takes in Maggie. “I thought you were smarter than this, going around sneaking out after being badly wounded.”

“I had an appointment to keep.” Maggie says, somewhat defensively. “Nothing physical.”

M’gann lets out a sigh.

“You’re adults.” she says, holding her hands out in front of her, as if discarding her stake in the matter. “You can take care of yourselves. There’s takeout downstairs in the bar fridge, if you’re hungry, and water behind the counter. Ash - you remember my friend? - is around tonight, so ask her if you need anything else. I need to go meet with some of my suppliers, about getting the bar ready to re-open tomorrow.”

She leaves the room, but not before Maggie hears a exasperated mumble of “What have I gotten myself into?” slip past her lips.

“Who is she ?” Alex asks, looking up at Maggie, as they listen to M’gann’s footsteps tapping down the stairs. “She  _ is _ an alien, right?”

“She’s a friend.” Maggie says, not wanting to reveal M’gann’s identity without her permission. “She doesn’t mean to be rude. I think she’s just a little unused to having people ... guests... around.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Alex snarks.

Maggie shakes her head.

  
“I’m surprised she even allowed us to stay here this long.” she says. M’gann has never been unkind to Maggie, but Maggie has never known her to be all that outgoing, either.

“You  _ should _ stay here, though.” she adds, taking in how gaunt Alex still looks. “For the night, at least.”

Something in Alex’s previously mutinous gaze dims, as she looks over Maggie.

“Come here.” she says to Maggie, softly.

Maggie accedes to the request without thinking much of it, nearing Alex’s perch at the foot of the bed, until she is standing just in front of the space between Alex’s outstretched legs. She feels a little self-conscious as brown eyes look her up and down, lingering over the dressed burns and wounds, but the gaze is too clinical to make much of it.

“This is a mess.” Alex diagnoses at the end of her inspection, waving a disparaging arm at the dressing half-hidden by Maggie’s jacket. “Who wrapped these?”

Maggie lets out a laugh at the somewhat snooty tone that the judgment is pronounced in, but steps instinctively back, when Alex reaches out a tense hand towards her. She instantly regrets her retreat when Alex’s hand freezes, and forces herself to step forward again, a little closer than before, so that the front of her body makes contact with the outstretched limb.

“Let me?” Alex asks, then, tentatively, and Maggie nods.

She sits on the bed, beside Alex, and takes off her jacket. Alex unwraps the mess of dressing carefully, after wetting it down with a warm washcloth. Afterwards, she reaches for the first aid kit left by the table, and goes about cleaning up the wounds again. The warm water washing over her hand and torso almost makes Maggie want to close her eyes and go to sleep, but Alex follows it up with a stinging disinfectant that has Maggie yelping, and Alex laughing in response.

“You got hit by a bat and didn’t complain, but you’re going to whine about this?” Alex asks, somewhat smugly. “Wimp.”

Maggie bites her lip, clamping down on the urge to respond in similar teasing fashion. It’s so easy to slip back into her old camaraderie with Alex, especially when she’s looking at Maggie like that, with such an uncharacteristically open and inviting expression. So easy, too, to forget all the unanswered questions that lie between them. 

“That time before...when you said that Aran had access to a private practitioner for his wounds...did you mean yourself?” Maggie asks, her mind latching to the one that seems easiest to get an answer out of Alex for.

Alex nods, looking strangely bashful. She starts covering the wounds again, deft fingers expertly looping the gauze over and under Maggie’s limbs.

“I never actually finished medical school, to be honest.” she says. “I was only there long enough to finish the theoreticals. My clerkship was cut short; I had to get most of my practical training on the field.”

“That explains the terrible bedside manner.” Maggie snarks, feeling satisfactorily revenged for Alex’s earlier comment about wimps, when the latter’s eyes narrow.

She runs her own hands over the dressing, after Alex finishes up and turns away to return the leftover gauze to the kit. It’s wrapped so seamlessly that the dressing seems practically glued on to her skin. Maggie looks back up, to offer a proper thank you, just in time to see Alex wince, as she stretches to put away the kit.

“Is anything broken?” Maggie asks, alarmed. “We need to get you to a hospital!”

Alex waves away her concern.

“You friend...M’gann? She brought in a Berilian physician to see me. They weren’t very familiar with human anatomy, but they could follow my instructions closely enough.”

Maggie nods, feeling suddenly awkward when she realizes what she has no pretense for staying there any longer. Alex, on the other hand, merely looks somber. 

“This is how I met Aran, you know.” she ventures, nodding at her handwork wrapped around Maggie’s arms and shoulders.

“You mean, you patched him up?” Maggie asks.

Alex nods.

“Found him on the street, after a confrontation with a customer of his. Deal gone wrong, I guess. I stitched him up, brought him home so he could stay the night. Next thing I knew, he started following me around, helping out here and there.”

Maggie has to smile. After all, Alex had made someone like Maggie let down her walls. The idea of an impressionable kid latching onto her is not at all hard to believe.

“Before I knew it, the kids just kind of... multiplied.” Alex says, shrugging somewhat shyly. “I mean, it’s a cruel line of business, and I guess they needed someone to watch over them. It wasn’t something I expected, it wasn’t what I entered the business for, but if I could give these kids some safety, just for a little while...it wasn’t a big deal, you know?”

“Where are they from?” Maggie asks.

Alex shrugs.

“Humans. Aliens. Kids who grew up in the business. Kids who got dragged into it because they had no other way. I guess you’d call them a ragtag bunch.”

“And you wanted to protect them,” Maggie murmurs.

Alex shrugs again, now looking flat-out embarrassed.

“I wasn’t a good DEO agent.” she says bluntly. “I let my superior be taken, did I ever tell you that? Couldn’t even put up a fight, when they dragged him off. I couldn’t give my sister the family she deserved, either. But, maybe, protecting these kids...that was something I’ve always been good at, you know? That was something I could do.”

_ But who would look after you? _ , Maggie thinks, remembering soft words whispered in a cool breeze.

_ I’ve got you. It’s okay. _

_ I miss her, Maggie. _

It was one thing to have a loyal group of cohorts depend on you. Companionship was something else entirely. Maggie can’t help picturing how lonesome it must have been, which leads to her wondering if that is why Alex seems to have latched onto her so fiercely. The thought doesn’t discomfit at all, although maybe it should.

After all, Maggie had latched on to Alex too, hadn’t she?

“I need to head home.” she says, when Alex doesn’t speak for a while. 

She resists the temptation to shuffle her feet, when Alex looks down at her with disappointed eyes.

“Can’t you stay here for tonight?” Alex asks, frowning a little. ‘M’gann did say that you shouldn’t be up and moving.”

Maggie hesitates. The rekindling of their uneasy truce is one thing, but -

“Just for tonight.” Alex whispers. In the near-darkness, Maggie can still see her eyes, darker and glittering. “We don’t have to be... what we are. Just... stay, Maggie? Please?”

Maggie reaches a decision.

“Shift over.” she says, moving back towards the bed, and Alex fairly beams.

\---

 

By habit, Maggie wakes up just as the rays of dawn are shining into the room through the small window.

She tries to shift up, but the arm splayed over her stomach arrests the movement. Blearily, Maggie considers that, whatever else Alex may be, there must definitely be some koala DNA mixed up in there somewhere, because she remembers being clung to tightly throughout the night, too, even though the two of them had gone to sleep at quite a respectable distance from each other. She feels the blood rush to her face, as she remembers how warm she had felt in the night, without really registering the source of said warmth.

This woman, Maggie thinks, as she looks to the side at Alex, might be the death of her. 

The death of her snores lightly in her sleep, though, and has her face currently pressed into Maggie’s side, so it’s hard to be more than mildly concerned about the fact.

Maggie sighs. Why had she thought that any of this would end with her coming out unscathed?

She looks down at Alex’s face, peaceful in sleep now, but streaked with dried lines of tears from the previous day, and wonders if she should tell Alex what she suspects. Again, she decides against it. Before, her reticence had stemmed from a reluctance to trust Alex with any extra intel, unless it was absolutely necessary. Now, a new reason makes itself known; Maggie doesn’t want to give her false hope.

Without thinking about it beforehand, Maggie slides a hand down Alex’s face, restraining herself from actually making contact with the skin. Alex murmurs in her sleep nevertheless, and a sleepy hand grasps at Maggie’s outstretched one, although the owner of it doesn’t wake up. Maggie wonders just how many beatings Alex had taken at the warehouse, before they had both fallen unconscious, to be this out of it even now, two days later.

That thought leads to fresh feelings of guilt and frustration, so Maggie shifts away from them, and grabs her phone from the bedside table, to distract herself and check for any new messages that had come in through the night. There is a text from Captain Rivera, acknowledging Maggie’s transmission regarding the meeting with Lena, followed by a terse threat from same to escort Maggie out of the premises if she steps foot in the station until her vacation time is over. The third message is from James checking in on her, which Maggie shoots off a quick reply to. 

The fourth message, from Kara, is the one that she had been waiting for. Maggie scans the address sent in the text, and inputs it into her maps app without thinking twice about the location. She does do a double-take when the destination pops up on her screen, though.

\---

 

Maggie makes a quick stop at her apartment after she leaves the bar that morning, hankering for a shower in the privacy of her own place, as well as a fresh change of clothes. Before long, though, she’s heading out again, reopening the map to the address specified in Kara’s text.

When she finally reaches the downtown branch of National City General Hospital, and walks in through the front door, Kara is already waiting for her at the registration area.

“You made it!” she says, all bright and cheery, as Maggie heads over to her.

Despite everything, Maggie finds herself being charmed enough to give an amiable nod in return.

“This is kind of an odd place to meet up at.” she says quietly, looking around at the bustling hospital. “Why are we here?”

Kara holds up her phone, her chat window with Maggie open on it.

“Because I think I know what you want to talk to me about.” she says, her smile dimming into one that’s a little resigned. “And I think I might be able to explain things a little better here.”

Maggie acquiesces with a shrug, and Kara leads her away from the registration area, towards the wards. Maggie is quite familiar with the general ward, on account of visiting injured officers when they had to stay overnight there. So, she’s surprised when Kara turns into a hallway ahead of where those wards are located.

“We’re going to the Extended Care Unit.” Kara says, looking back at Maggie’s puzzled expression. “You’ve probably not been in this part of the hospital before.” 

She turns back before Maggie can shake her head, eating up the hallway with long strides. By the time Maggie has caught up to her, Kara has thrown open the door to a ward far more expansive than the ones Maggie is used to visiting.

Kara steps in, making a beeline for some days-old flowers drooping by the bedside.

“She knows she shouldn’t be bringing these in here.” she mutters, throwing the wilted yellow mess into the paper basket.

Maggie’s attention, though, is caught by the occupant of the solitary bed in the ward. There’s an older woman lying there, in deep slumber. She has blond hair a shade lighter than Kara’s framing her face, and eyes that are a little sunken in. There’s something familiar about the sharp concaveness of her cheekbones.

“She’s been here just a little under two years.” Kara says, coming over to stand quietly next to Maggie. “The DEO pays for her stay, and for the private ward. I don’t think I need to tell you who they are.”

Maggie shakes her head mutely, watching Kara gaze at the sleeping woman with apparent affection in her eyes. 

“She gets better every day, the doctors say, but it’s slow going. There are both mental and physical complications to get past.”

Kara tiptoes over to the woman, and ghosts her finger over the sleeping face, skimming just above the skin, as if afraid of marring the skin with even the slightest touch.

“Sometimes she wakes up.” she murmurs, “But I don’t stick around for that, although I think Alex has got to talk to her a few times.”

The familiarity suddenly clicks for Maggie. 

“Is that who it is then?” she asks, studying the face again, mapping the similarities to the face in her memory.

Kara nods.

“This is Eliza Danvers.” She says, looking back at Maggie. “Alex’s mom, and my foster mother.”

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, whew damn, I made it before month end this time!! 8D
> 
> This was actually supposed to be two separate chapters, but since I had both of them written, I thought I might as well post them together. I'm trying to get the bulk of this story out before the third season gets into full swing, to tell you the truth. That's my reason, and apology, for why these chapters are getting longer, and why so much is happening in each one.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and for sticking along despite it having taken this long to get here. I'm so fucking grateful for y'all, and I only hope to continue to do the readership justice.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a lot of things get cleared up.

“It was something called Red Kryptonite.” Kara says as she leads Maggie out of the hospital to the park outside, with one final somber look backward at the woman lying unconscious on the bed. “I was infected with it, that night. It messed with my brain...made a lot of bad memories come to the surface, and I just...reacted to them.”

“Messed with your head?” Maggie repeats, skeptically.

“I know how it sounds.” Kara says. “I can’t ...I won’t pretend it made me feel things that weren’t already there, somewhere in my mind, but it brought them to the surface. Made it impossible for me to ignore them.”

It should sound implausible. Put into context against M’gann’s psychic powers, though, and Darla’s mind link, it actually makes a weird sort of sense. Enough for Maggie to at least entertain a concept as wild as what Kara seems to be revealing.

“Well, I guess the alien version of psychoactive drugs makes more sense than evil clones or telepathic control.” she says drily, remembering the host of ridiculous theories she had seen bandied about, in the wake of Supergirl’s supposed death.d

Kara’s amused smile at that is watery and weak.

“You’d be surprised to hear that both of those other things have happened to me as well.” she says, eyes crinkling, before her expression turns sober again.

“Of course it did.” Maggie says resignedly, shaking her head and trying to hold on to some semblance of normality in her rapidly shifting worldview.

“But Alex’s mother?” she presses, when Kara just avoids her eyes. “What happened to her?”

“They thought they could use my family to get me to see sense, when I went on the rampage.” Kara says lowly, sinking into herself, so that all near-six feet of her is hunched almost shorter than Maggie. “So they could talk to me, maybe. Make me remember who I was. It was supposed to just be my sister, just Alex, but Eliza...she just-”

“She tagged along?” Maggie asks, when Kara pauses.

Kara nods miserably.

“I was all messed up in the head.” she says, “It didn’t really register to me, who they were. All I could think of was Krypton and my mom and my dad and _my aunt,_ all of them taken from me. It was weird, but when I was floating up there, it felt like Alex and Eliza were the cause of that, that they were the reason I was up there, all alone.”

The weird thing is, Maggie sort of gets it, even without knowing all the details. She knows all about hurting, and feeling angry, and lashing out at the people easiest to reach, rather than at the true source of her anger.

Except Maggie had been powerless. Kara, on the other hand, had had the most destructive powers in the world at her fingertips.

“J’onn...the Martian who fought me...he shot a psychic attack against me.” Kara mumbles, her voice barely a whisper. “And of course, I ...retaliated. The attack ricocheted and headed straight for the one person on screen who wasn’t trained in dodging it. Sometimes, I think...I wonder whether I subconsciously aimed it, so it would do that. I don’t know. All I know is that it hit her, a physical and mental attack striking her all at once.”

“It sounds like an accident.” Maggie says, looking at the sagging figure.

“Except I’m Kryptonian.” comes the morose voice from between hunched shoulders. “The attack...I could have stopped it from reaching her. My reflexes were fast enough, and instead I just...stood there. And for a second, I was _glad._ It felt like...it felt like justice, like my mother used to mete out. Alex’s mother for my aunt. A fair trade.”

“What aunt?” Maggie whispers.

Kara doesn’t seem to hear her, still studying the ground as she continues.

“How could Alex ever forgive me, for hurting the last of her family? How could I ask her to do that, when I never forgave her for... for what she did to the last of mine?”

“I don’t know what she did to yours.” Maggie admits. “But Alex isn’t you. You should have heard her in her sleep, the day you saved us. She was crying out for you, mumbling your name over and over again. Even though she was delirious, you were the first person she remembered.”

“She ...she asked for me?” Kara asks, looking up and staring wide-eyed at Maggie, “For me?”

“And you let her think you were dead for two years!” Maggie soldiers on, wanting to drive that point home, although if pressed, she would find it hard to admit why she feels so slighted and angry on Alex’s behalf about it.

“I _was_ dead!” Kara protests, looking upset now. “For a whole year, Maggie! Do you think I just walked away from having a hundred kryptonite pellets shot at me at close range? I floated in a coffin in space for months, feeling nothing, until my aunt finally found me, and brought me down. I was unconscious for another six months before she and my cousin managed to bring me back to consciousness. My sister had left the DEO long before I woke up!”

Maggie blinks at the avalanche of information that had been thrown at her, and pounces on the one that still sticks out to her.

“You should have still sought her out,” she says, “After you woke up. No matter how late it was.”

Kara looks stymied. She opens her mouth, and then shuts it again, looking annoyed.

“You know what?” she mutters in the end, “Nevermind. I can see why M’gann recommended you to me. You just don’t let things go, do you?”

“M’gann did what?” Maggie asks, momentarily distracted.

Kara shrugs, still looking annoyed.

“That’s why I sought you out.” she says. “I needed an officer to keep an eye on my sister, and she recommended you.”

She sighs, and seems to deflate, before continuing.

“I never expected my sister would get so caught up with you.”

Her voice is thoughtful, but she’s also frowning a little, as if disliking her own conclusion.

“That’s not fair.” Maggie argues, uncomfortably aware of how tight and defensive her voice sounds. “It’s not like she had anyone else to turn to.”

Kara shakes her head, as if trying not to hear those words, but how could she not? Maggie has no doubt she could have spoken them in the lowest register of whisper she can manage, and Kara’s Kryptonian hearing could still not escape the truth in them.

“She isn’t-” Kara says, before pausing and starting again, “Without me, she could live the life she always wanted to. A life where I don’t have to hold her back.”

“Doesn’t look like much of a life to me.” Maggie remarks, remembering how tired and Alex had looked, the night she had asked Maggie to stay with her, remembering how Alex’s body had clung to hers through the night, as if afraid she would vanish otherwise. “And Eliza wasn’t the last of her family, Kara. _You_ are. She needs you.”

Kara is still shaking her head, though.

“She could never forgive me.” she says forlornly, but now there’s a thread of something else in her tone. Not hope, exactly, but unsureness in her own words.

Maggie remembers Alex’s near-indomitable fury at the Braxians who had kidnapped Aran, and how unforgivingly she had spoken of Maxwell Lord. She also remembers, though, Alex’s thin voice crying out for Kara in the middle of the night, and that spurs on her next actions.

She takes the alien database that she had borrowed from Lucy out of her bag. She thinks she understands now, why it had been so important to Alex that it be found, instead of gathering dust in some underground storage cave of Maxwell Lord’s.

“She fought hard to find this, and take it back from Maxwell Lord.” Maggie says, holding the database out to Kara. “She said that she wanted to get it back to where it belongs, but if you’re who I’m guessing you are, I think who it belongs to might be you.”

Kara receives it with reverent hands and wide eyes.

“So that’s where it went.” she whispers, her breath disturbing the slight layer of dust still coating the database and projector. “He must have stolen it during all the confusion that night. Of course Alex would have been the first person to realize that it was missing.”

She presses something on the projector, and suddenly a blue light shines from it. Then, a holographic projection appears, of a woman who looks oddly familiar, when Maggie leans in for a closer look.

“Hello, Kara.” the woman says. “It has been a long time since I last saw you.”

“Mom.” Kara whispers, staring hungrily at the holographic figure.

“What can I do for you?” the hologram asks, expression unchanging.

That’s as far as it gets, before Kara flicks the projector shut again, and looks down. Tendrils of hair escape her bun, and fall down to obscure her face.

“I can’t believe she got it back.” she says, her voice wobbly. “No, actually, I can. Alex can do anything.”

She looks up at Maggie, and her eyes are shiny.

“Kryptonians...my people...were great explorers. It was our primary reason for developing spaceflight as far as we did. So we could visit new planets, and document them.”

Maggie raises her eyebrows, unsure why she’s being told this information.

“This database was the end product of everything we learned.” Kara says, nodding at the contraption in her hands. Her smile is proud and watery and sad. “It was one of the last things my mother gave me, when she sent me here. She thought it might help.”

Maggie takes a deep breath, not entirely comfortable with this conversation about mothers and familial love and all those things that are apparently so universal that even aliens had experienced them, while she had been left out.

“Thank you for being her friend.” Kara says eventually, perhaps mistaking Maggie’s silence for irritation at her earlier words. “I still can’t say I’m happy about everything you two seem to be dragged into, but I’m glad you’re there to support her, when I can’t.”

Maggie shrugs.

“You _can_.” she contests. “Alex and I may have gotten close, but she still needs her sister.”

Kara just smiles sadly.

“No, seriously.” Maggie presses, “You can’t just expect me to not say something to her about this. About _you_.”

“Just... let me think on it.” Kara pleads. “Let me do this on my own terms.”

“I can’t keep something like this from her, Kara.” Maggie says. “Not anymore.”

_Not after I saw her broken and crying over you like that._

Kara looks conflicted.

“I can’t bear to see her again, and then have her turn me away.”

“You’ve got two weeks to figure it out.” Maggie says with finality, fed up with that familiar refrain. She does feel sympathy for the torn woman in front of her, but mostly, she just sees Alex’s broken face. “Then, I’m sorry Kara, but I’ll have to tell her.”

Kara sighs, but nods, although the annoyed looked doesn’t quite leave her face.

“M’gann _really_ wasn’t wrong about you.”

Smiling a little sadly, she hands the projector back to Maggie.

“It belongs at the DEO.” she says. “For now, they need this information more than I do.”

Maggie nods, and turns back to the park exit, taking the handover as a cue that their conversation is over. The usual calibre of visitors are just starting to wander into the park, as Maggie and Kara exit. Maggie means to make a beeline towards the parking lot of the hospital, but follows Kara when the latter takes the long way around instead, which passes by the main road.

As they near the usual line of cars parked by the side of the road, Maggie sees a familiar tall figure leaning against one of those small cars she’d been reading about on the news, the type that was getting a lot of press for their energy efficiency.

“James!” Kara calls out.

For the first time, a true smile comes to her face, wide and genuine, as she waves her hands eagerly at James Olsen. From this distance, Maggie can see James raise one hand back, as if in salute. He’s looking back at Kara just as fondly, like they’re the only two people to exist when they lock eyes. It’s ridiculous, and adorable, and it makes some part of Maggie wistful.

“James is here to pick me up.” Kara explains unnecessarily to Maggie, gesturing at the small car that is dwarfed by her boyfriend.

Maggie can’t help letting out a laugh at that, causing Kara to look at her questioningly.

“It’s just...you can leap over buildings, and fly.” Maggie says. “But you asked your boyfriend to come pick you up.”

Kara smiles again, but this time it’s sad again.

“Haven’t you heard?” she says lightly, as she walks towards the car ahead of Maggie. “I don’t do that anymore.”

Maggie follows, lagging behind so that Kara is already in the car and strapped in, by the time she reaches James.

“So you two had the big talk, huh?” James says amiably, as Maggie greets him with a wave.

His voice is not light, but casual, as if hearing that National City’s long-dead superhero was not only alive, but back amongst its citizens, should be something to be taken in stride. Whereas Maggie still feels like she’s reeling, trying to put everything she has learned not only into place, but also to hold it up against what she knows of Alex. It’s boggling to her, and all of a sudden, Maggie can see what Kara sees in this even-keeled guy, as a bastion of calm in what must undoubtedly be a turbulent life otherwise.

“You seem to be taking it pretty calmly.” she accuses him.

James shrugs.

“I thought the woman I loved was dead for a year and a half.” he says. “And then she was back in my life, like I hadn’t seen her bleed out before my eyes. I’ve kind of learned to embrace the unimaginable.”

“I could go for some of that outlook right now.” Maggie says, trying not to feel guilty for what she had promised to keep from Alex.

“Yeah, you sound like you’ve had a tough week.” James says. “I’m surprised you’re even up and about.”

“I wasn’t talking about that.” Maggie says, blinking.

“I was.” James says, matter-of-factly. “How are _you_ doing, Maggie? All of this couldn’t have been easy on you.”

“I’m fine.” Maggie says, trying not to let the words come out too awkwardly, even though she’s unused to dealing with this type of inquiry. “All in a day’s work.”

“I didn’t mean to pry.” James says, looking concerned. Maybe he has mistaken her awkwardness for standoffishness. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Maggie repeats, the words rushing out in a hurry. She remembers James’ check-in text from the previous week, too, and the odd feeling of knowing that someone cared what happened to her. “I just...I wasn’t expecting the question. But I’m good. After all, I’ve got access to the most snootily exacting physician on this side of the Atlantic.”

James looks puzzled at that last statement, but a teasing grin returns to his face soon enough.

“For reasons of being the press, and being obligated to report things, I’m not going to ask for details.” he says, before raising his hand in farewell. “I have to be back at Catco, as soon as I drive Kara off to her work. I’ll text you soon, though.”

With that easy assurance, he opens the door of the car, and folds his lanky frame in next to Kara’s, looking hilariously out of place in the tiny vehicle. Kara smiles brightly and waves at Maggie as they pull off, and Maggie can’t help waving back, even though her mind is occupied by more than just Kara’s revelations.

It should feel strange, James’ concern, and Kara’s confidences, and Alex’s faith in her. Like living someone else’s life. Like living a _normal_ person’s life. Except, it doesn’t feel strange at all. Despite how hopeless everything else seems, that part just feels... good.

\---

 

The sun is bright overhead, as Maggie heads straight back to the bar to check up on Alex. She slips in through the back entrance with the key that M’gann had lent her, and finds herself greeted by a ruckus going on inside.

Alex is seated atop one of the bar tables, surrounded by a cadre of youth carrying all manner of weapons, and she looks a little overwhelmed, as they all speak over themselves trying to communicate something to her. A short ways from the group, looking bemused, stand Darla and M’gann’s friend Ash.

“-hadn’t seen you in days!” says a kid whom Maggie recognizes as Aran. He’s got a wicked looking blade in his hands, although it’s waving uselessly against his side, as he speaks to Alex.

“Yeah, we just wanted to make sure you were okay.” says another one, whom Maggie recognizes as Ren, the Rothlorinan who had been present at her first meeting with Alex. “What are you doing here?”

“Guys, I’m fine.” Alex is saying, sounding embarrassed. She looks up and catches Maggie’s eyes, as she approaches. “I was just...held up.”

Maggie gets a nod of recognition from Aran and Ren, as she passes them and leans against the same table that Alex is sitting on.

“Nice gun.” Maggie says casually to the Rothlorian, who’s sporting a handheld strapped to his belt. “You got it registered?”

He looks wary all of sudden, but Maggie does get a half-annoyed and half-amused huff out of Alex.

“Hold on.” A third member of the group says, eyes narrowing as he stares at Maggie, and takes in the badge at her hip. “You’re that detective that Alex is always going on about.”

“Shen!” Alex hisses, but Maggie is already leaning forward, curious, as more members of the group look towards her in recognition, then smirk at Alex.

“Yeah, she’s always going on about how we should ask for you if we ever get taken in.” a fifth member of the group says, completely disregarding Alex’s now-murderous look. “Something about you being the only competent cop in the city.”

Maggie isn’t sure who is blushing more fiercely at this point, Alex or her. Alex thinks she’s good at her job? She talks about Maggie? _All the time?_

Before matters can proceed further, though, Ash and Darla are walking from the bar counter towards them.

“This reunion is touching.” says Ash, looking more annoyed than afraid at the impressive amount of weapons on display in front of her. “But, if you are going to invade M’gann’s bar, you will at least make yourselves useful, instead of loitering around.”

“They’re not hurting anyone.” Maggie says, unsure when every pair of eyes in the group turn towards her, why she feels so defensive over Alex’s posse. “They just wanted to make sure she’s okay.”

“They can make sure she’s all right while helping us get the bar ready, then.” Ash speaks firmly. “Come along.”

She flaps them along to the counter imperiously, but the boys shoot a tentative glance back at Alex.

“We’re getting takeout at lunch for everyone who helps out.” Darla says encouragingly, as they shuffle in place. “Top tier stuff. Noonan’s, in fact.”

That causes a stampede towards the counter, as the group rushes to make themselves useful. Darla follows them after shooting a smug smile backwards, but Ash looks back at Maggie and Alex challengingly. Maggie hangs back, willing to let Alex take the lead, but Alex... Alex just looks puzzled.

“Do I know you?” she asks Ash, frowning. “You look familiar.”

A dismissive rolling of eyes behind overlarge glasses is the reply to her troubles.

“No.” Ash replies briefly, before following Darla and the boys to the counter.

Alex shrugs her shoulders, and shares a bemused look with Maggie.

“You’re okay with them hanging around here?” Maggie asks Alex, as she watches the boys meekly set to arranging the bar, under the watchful eyes of Ash and Darla.

“I need to go out and see some people.” Alex says, flexing her almost-healed hands. “It’s probably safer for them to stay here, while I’m out.”

Maggie nods absentmindedly, unable to get what Kara had revealed out of her head, when she takes in how open Alex’s usually shuttered expression is, as she tells Maggie about her plans for the day, while casting a fond glance over the group of boys that she had taken in under her wing.

Had she been like this with Kara, too? Had her sister been the only other person who got to see this sweet, relaxed side of Alex?

“Hey, Maggie, are you okay?”

The question cuts into Maggie’s thoughts, and she realizes that Alex is looking down at her concernedly now. Her hand is pressing down on Maggie’s shoulder, with a firmness that is both grounding and comforting.

Maggie blinks at the semi-intimate gesture, but Alex doesn’t shift away. She just keeps looking at Maggie intently, as if trying to read her. It occurs to Maggie that this might be why Alex seems to understand her so well. Not because of some preternatural sense, or due to extraterrestrial powers like M’gann’s, but just because she _tries_ , in a dogged way that Maggie isn’t really used to anyone doing.

This time, though, Alex is the one person that Maggie can’t disclose her problem to. The one person in whom Maggie can’t confide the guilt she feels over denying Alex her family, and the other guilt too, of knowing that a part of her is thrilled to keep whatever-it-is between her and Alex going a little longer, without external interruptions.

“I’m fine.” Maggie murmurs, a familiar refrain today. She feels warm all over, the heat spreading from the hand on her shoulders. She wonders if Alex even realizes the full extent of actions like that. She surely must, because Maggie is pretty sure that Alex isn’t a very tactile person in general. She seems quite the opposite of it, really.

Except with Maggie.

“I’m fine.” Maggie repeats again, trying to dispel that train of thought. She shifts away from Alex’s touch, grasping for her phone like a lifeline. “I just remembered, I should check in with my aunt.”

Alex’s brows furrow.

“Is she expecting a call from you?”

“I call her every week around this time.” Maggie replies, as she taps at the phone screen. “She’ll worry if I skip today.”

“But why your aunt?” Alex asks, sounding confused. “Why not-”

Maggie knows she can’t have winced, or anything obvious like that. The wound is too old and buried for that kind of reaction. At most, her expression might have shifted just a little. Alex, though, seems to have clocked it anyways, and stopped her questioning immediately.

Unwilling to prompt Alex further in that line of inquiry, Maggie just shakes her head and goes back to  locating her aunt’s contact file.

Before she can dial the number, though, her phone vibrates with an incoming call. Maggie picks it up immediately when Captain Rivera’s caller ID pops up, unable to stop sharing a mystified look with Alex, who is watching avidly.

“Get over here right now, Sawyer.” the captain’s voice comes over the phone, sounding terse. “I’m temporarily lifting your ban on visiting the station while on vacation. There’s something you need to see.”

\---

 

Maggie already knows it’s going to be bad news, when the captain texts her directions to head to the morgue immediately upon arriving at the station.

Nothing prepares her, though, for the three bodies laid out on the slabs, near which the examiner and Captain Rivera are standing.

“Routine patrol found them washed up by the docks at dawn.” the captain says, as Maggie looks down at the bodies in horrified fascination.  “Preliminary forensics say tissues samples are consistent with the DNA collected at the scene of the bar. We also compared them against the video footage we got from the bar. The footage is grainy, but the facial structures are a match for the three men responsible for setting off the bio-weapon.”

Though unmistakably dead, the bodies look unmarked, even peaceful. Maggie’s next intake of breath is nothing short of horrified. It had to have been pre-meditated.

“Is it a warning?” she asks, not really expecting an answer from the captain. “Did whoever was responsible for the attack kill them, just to send us a message?”

“Regular postage would have been a lot easier.” the captain grumbles, but she’s not looking at the bodies, despite the levity of her words.

“We’ll need to take the bodies back with us.” comes a voice behind them.

Maggie turns to see Lucy Lane carefully picking her way through to them. Some distance behind her, Agent Susan Vasquez seems to be in a heated discussion with Tameka and her lab assistant.

“We had to inform your friends at the agency too, of course.” the captain mutters, as Lucy nears. She doesn’t sound entirely happy about it.

“We need to get our team to look the bodies over.” Lucy says. “See if we can find anything on our end.”

“Think you’ll find something we missed?” Maggie asks, suddenly feeling proprietary.

Lucy sounds annoyed when she replies.

“I’m just trying to make sure all our bases are covered, Maggie.”

Maggie hesitates, then decides to go all in.

You think,” she asks, feeling a little foolish. “You think that place...Cadmus... might have had something to do with this?”

Lucy nods.

“I’ve got some more information on them, from my contacts at the military.” she says, looking down at the bodies with an odd expression on her face. It looks almost like guilt.

“And?” Maggie presses.

“Do you have some time now?” Lucy asks, turning to Maggie abruptly. “I have something at headquarters that you might like to see.”

Maggie, aware of Captain Rivera watching their odd exchange with sardonically raised eyebrows, simply nods. Lucy immediately exits the morgue, trailed by a slower Maggie, who looks back at the captain apologetically, before following the director of the DEO out to a waiting transport van.

\---

 

Lucy drives them to the DEO headquarters at a breakneck pace that Vasquez seems to enjoy, but which has Maggie clutching her seatbelt the whole way there.

“Agents Demos and Hines will be transporting the bodies to our lab in a separate van.” Lucy informs Maggie, when she stumbles out of the door at the end of the drive.

“Great.” Maggie mutters, making a note to bring her T100 along the next time. And the officers back at the station call _her_ ride a death trap.

Lucy is walking ahead into what seems to be the main communal workspace of the DEO, saying something to Vasquez, who nods and disappears into an adjoining hallway.

“I’ll keep you posted on what we find.” she says, turning back to Maggie when she catches up.

“Why are you taking such an active interest in this, all of sudden?” Maggie asks, as Lucy walks through the workspace at a leisurely pace. “You’re the director. Don’t you have other things to do?”

“I’m getting involved because I think we’re dealing with people more dangerous than we had previously imagined, if they’re bold enough to kill people just to discourage us from their trail.”

“Please tell me you have something more to go on than that.” Maggie says.

“I’ve got some new intel.” Lucy confirms. “But, that’s not what I want to talk to you about, right now.”

She checks her watch, and then leads Maggie down the same hallway that Vasquez had disappeared down. A third of the way down, she pushes on the wall, and a panel slides open where Maggie had seen only smooth paint before.

The first thing that Maggie notices upon entering the hidden room is that Vasquez is already there, boredly twirling in a wheeled chair. The second thing is that two entire walls of the room are covered in security monitors.

“Security only agreed to clear the room for fifteen minutes.” Vasquez says, getting up and handing a folder over to Lucy. “We better talk fast, ma’am.”

Lucy nods, and rifles through the folder, while Maggie looks around. On the array of fifty-odd monitors, are shown futuristic looking glass-walled cells, with all manners of aliens trapped behind them. From the grainy videos, Maggie can make out a Coluan, two Vrangs, and a host of other species she doesn’t even recognize.

“This in-house holding facility for alien hostiles was established only ten years ago.” Lucy says, cutting into her survey.

“And why are you showing me this?” Maggie asks.

“Because, I don’t want you to think I’m all talk.” Lucy says simply. “Here.”

She takes out a stapled set of papers out of the folder Vasquez had handed her, and tilts them into Maggie’s line of sight.

“It’s a preliminary correctional release plan for the inmates we’ve got locked up here.” Lucy says, her fingers trailing over the text on the paper. “My predecessor got the ball rolling on it, but he didn’t have the time to get any further before ...well, before I took over.”

Most of the sheet is blacked out, but Maggie can make out enough to get the gist. Behavioural monitoring of inmates, transfer to a halfway house, probationary release, helping with securing papers for the aliens-

“Why haven’t we heard about any of this?” she asks.

“Because I’m still working on it.” Lucy says. “We can’t move forward with it while the government is stalling on their end, on approving it.”

There’s silence, as Maggie stares at the footage of the cells, and considers the odds of Lex Luthor’s government ever allowing them to move forward with this.

Still...she can’t deny that Lucy is trying, just like Maggie tries to do what she can in the NCPD, and like Captain Rivera had done before her.

“Is that all you wanted to show me?” Maggie asks, turning away from the cells.

“No.” Lucy says, looking both awkward and impatient all at once.

Maggie waits quietly.

“It’s the database, Maggie.” Lucy says.

Maggie blinks.

“Oh, right.” she says, taking it out of her bag and handing it over to Lucy. “Thanks for lending it to me.”

“No.” Lucy shakes her head, as she carefully places the device on her desk, and turns back to Maggie. “I mean that I still can’t help wondering about it. About how you knew about it.”

“You keep going on about that.” Maggie says, uncomfortably. “I thought we already covered this.”

Lucy puts up her hands.

“Fine.” she says, in irritation. “ _Fine_ , but I still want to tell you something. Something that put us onto the track of the same investigation as you in the first place.”

“Plain speech, please.” Maggie requests, exhausted at the way Lucy keeps jumping around from topic to topic. “It’s still too early for senior management doublespeak.”

“This is relevant.” Lucy insists. “Just hear me out.”

Maggie mutely waves a hand for her to continue.

“A couple of years ago, we first got wind that someone or something in National City might be stocking up on off-world weapons.” Lucy says.

Already, alarm bells are going off in Maggie’s head.

“It started out with us getting reports of them being used in gang warfare.” Lucy continues. “Just small-time stuff, petty criminals who didn’t even know how to properly operate the things, but that’s how we knew something was up. With National City being a sanctuary city and all, I guess it was only a matter of time before an underground trade in offworld weapons would start up.”

“But those were isolated incidents.” Maggie says, remembering the NCPD having to deal with similar incidents in the past few months, too. “Just idiots trying to use weapons they didn’t even know how to work. We contained them pretty easily.”

“That’s all we thought it was too, at first.” Lucy says, “I think that’s what we were _supposed_ to think. But the numbers just weren’t adding up.”

“What numbers?”

“I mean, it wasn’t just a case of a weapon here and there, smuggled in by a stray traveller.” Lucy says. “We were snatching up cartloads, in some of our raids. There were way more of them coming into the city, than were making their way back out into the hands of small time drug lords and criminals.”

“You wanted to find out who was stockpiling them.” Maggie realizes.

“Right.” Lucy says, “I’ll admit, at first we thought the threat was alien-origin, likely some off-worlder stocking up for a large-scale attack or something, which is why we started investigating the issue in the first place. Except we had no in. It was uncharted territory, and we didn’t know where to even begin with gathering intel.”

“You would have, if your primary MO in apprehending alien hostiles wasn’t to throw them in a cell and let them rot there.” Maggie mutters, thinking of M’gann’s bar, and Brian, and even Scorcher.

Lucy frowns, but nods reluctantly afterward, conceding the point.

“Like I said, I’m working on that.” she says. “Still, the fact remains that there was only one viable path open to us, and I think you can guess what that is.”

“Undercover.” Maggie says promptly. She’d done a similar stint herself, back in her time at Gotham MCU, when all that trouble with the fairytale cult had started up in that city.

“It was our best way through.” Lucy says, nodding, “And we had the perfect agent for the task. Someone who had previous experience working with alien technology, and had sufficient combat experience to hold her own on the field.”

 _Her_ own.

Maggie feels the realization coming like she’s standing on a track, and there’s the sound of a train coming. Sounding far away, but brutally fast, about to hit her before she even realizes it.

“So you sent this agent undercover to untangle what was going on with the off-world weapons trade?”

“She was supposed to suss out who the main players are, and report back to us periodically.” Lucy says in reply. “We were going for a bloodless roundup, once we knew for sure who was at the top.”

But, that’s all wrong. It doesn’t fit with anything Alex had told her. Unless-

“Something went wrong.” Maggie says. “Or else, I get the feeling that you wouldn’t be telling me all this, right now.”

Lucy doesn’t look surprised at her statement. She just nods resignedly.

“Three months into the operation, it happened. There was supposed to be a routine check-in. We were going to pretend to apprehend her on the streets, disguised as FBI. We’d take her in, and see what she had to report us, then she’d pretend to break back out. We weren’t really expecting anything to go wrong. I mean, we’d pulled the same rendez-vous off without a hitch twice before.”

“Except something did happen.” Maggie prompts.

“This time, she didn’t come quietly.” Lucy says, “She shot at one of our agents, and disarmed three others, in a bid to get away.”

Fuck. It’s sinking in now. The time, the profession, everything. They match.

“Costas would have bled to death, if that shot hadn’t just missed her femoral artery.” Lucy says. “And in return, we had an undercover agent who’d gone rogue, with information in her hands that we couldn’t possibly track down otherwise.”

Maggie wonders what she’s supposed to be feeling right now, because the only thing she’s really feeling is the certainty that there must be a misunderstanding. A certainty that Alex had a reason, and a very good one, for doing what she had done. It isn’t rational, but neither is trusting the DEO, and at least Maggie was more familiar with Alex than she would ever be with this chameleon of an organization.

She makes her decision, then and there, silently, so when Lucy asks her next question, Maggie doesn’t hesitate at the answer that passes her lips.

“Let me ask you one more time, Maggie. Is there anything more regarding the database, that I might need to know?”

“Nothing comes to mind.” Maggie says shrugging. Her heart is practically beating a tattoo against her chest, but she’s pretty sure her tone is casual, and that her expression is only bemused.

Lucy nods, and looks down.

“Let me know if anything else comes up.” she requests.

Maggie nods in turn, and walks soundlessly back to the exit, followed by Vasquez. Lucy doesn’t stop her, and the one time that Maggie looks back, she just sees the director’s gaze focused intently on the database device, on Kara’s last gift from her dead mother.

“You’re pretty quiet.” Vasquez remarks, as they pass the familiar hallways.

When Maggie looks at her, she amends the statement.

“Even more than usual, I mean.”

She’s so engrossed in thoughts of her own, ad of what Lucy had just revealed to her, that Maggie doesn’t register Vasquez continuing to speak, after she replies with something trite. She only realizes it when the agent stops mid-word, and looks at her bemusedly.

“Sorry, can you say that again?” Maggie requests, trying to wind back to what Vasquez had apparently been discussing during their walk.

“I was saying,” Vasquez repeats, “that the Director wasn’t quite...I mean, even if everything she said was factual, Lucy didn’t really work with the agent long enough to get to know her well. That agent was the best shot in the DEO. Combined with her medical training, there’s no way she missed a major artery at close range, unless she wanted to.”

And with that odd pronouncement, Agent Vasquez waves Maggie out.

\---

 

Maggie asks to be dropped off at the bar, and enters through the back door again, to see M’gann busy at work setting the place up for the re-opening that night.

She does, however, look up when Maggie walks over, and pours a glass of whisky before Maggie even says anything, the expression on her face one of supreme contentment.

“What’s the good news?”  Maggie asks, reaching for the glass gratefully, and ready to pounce on anything that wouldn’t make her remember what Lucy had told her.

“I just got a phone call from Bartal’s husband.” M’gann says, her smile small but bright.

Maggie racks her mind for that familiar-sounding name, and remembers it to be that of the Terranean who had been rushed to the ICU, after the attack at the bar.

“It _is_ good news?” she ventures, tentatively.

“The best.” M’gann murmurs, her smile growing even brighter. “He’s out of emergency care, and they’re looking to release him next week.”

“That’s fantastic!” Maggie says. She can feel the sick anticipation in her stomach receding somewhat, from M’gann’s palpable relief and happiness.

M’gann nods, before looking closely at her.

“Lena Luthor paid for the hospital bills.” she says. “Bartal’s husband says it was all taken care of before they could even argue with her about it.”

Maggie feels a weird twinge of guilt at hearing that.

“Is everything ok?” M’gann asks, when she looks down to survey her drink instead of replying.

Maggie shrugs.

“Yeah.” she lies. “Just thinking about some new developments in a case.”

She feels all frustrated and pent up, waiting for leads to manifest and lab results to come in, while alien lives are on the line. Three humans had been massacred and laid out for the NCPD to find, just to prove a point that the organization they were tailing was untouchable. If that was how expendable Cadmus or whoever was responsible for this found humans, what the hell did they do to the aliens they abducted?

Maggie shakes her head deliberately, knowing that festering her thoughts on that scene is only going to make it harder for her to do her job, and to do due diligence in following up on her leads.

“So,” she says casually to the patiently waiting M’gann, pouncing on something that could distract her. “Kara said you’re the one who recommended her to me?”

“Yeah?” M’gann asks. “You guys had that talk already?”

Maggie nods.

“Why?” she asks, after a while. “Why me?”

M’gann shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“Of course you were the one I pointed her towards.” she says. “You’re... reliable. You do your job right, and not just when you’re having a good day or when you’re feeling nice. I figured that was the kind of person that Kara was looking for.”

Maggie looks down, unable to keep the smile blooming on her face. M’gann just watches her with a fond expression, as if amused by her bashfulness.

“How do you even know Kara?” Maggie asks, looking back up.

“I don’t.” M’gann replies with a shrug. “Well, not much. She comes by with her aunt sometimes, though.”

Maggie’s detective senses immediately prick up at that.

“Her aunt?” she prods, remembering the snatches of overheard conversation at the bar from the day after the attack. _How does my niece say it?_

M’gann looks behind her, into the storage room. Maggie follows her gaze, to where Ash is browbeating Alex’s boys into cleaning up the beer lines.

“A few of the regulars here...they have this unspoken pact, you know?” M’gann says, waving a hand around at the empty bar tables surrounding them, that would usually be populated by the aliens who frequented the bar. “That we should all help each other out, seeing as... well, you know how the situation is for aliens right now, out there.”

“Ok...” Maggie draws out. She had known that Maggie’s bar is kind of a safe haven for the aliens of the city, but she hadn’t know it was a whole _thing._

“So when word got out that this pod had smashed into the desert right outside the city, some of the regulars wanted to do something about it. Find whoever was in there, before the police or the press got to them, you know?”

“Wait, that was her?” Maggie jumps ahead to the obvious conclusion. “Kara’s aunt?”

“I’m getting there, _detective_.” M’gann says, stressing the last word out teasingly. “I had just taken over the bar at the time, so they looked to me to take the lead in investigating whatever had crashed down. The few of us who could fly got to the desert immediately, before any of the humans news networks picked up on it. All we found of the pod was just shattered pieces from the impact, but the body...”

M’gann pauses for a minute.

“Her body... Maggie, it was all messed up. Huge gash through her chest that hadn’t really healed up. It was like she was in coma, and slipping away fast in the night. She wasn’t really responding to the treatment of any of the physicians I could bring in, but we all know about what happens to Kryptonians in yellow star systems, of course. The only thing I could really think of was...well, the sun.”

She runs a hand over her torso area while she speaks, as if feeling the phantom injuries herself.

“So we exposed her to sunlamps by night, and put her out on the roof in the daytime, to soak in the sun. Few weeks later though, we come up to the roof, and she’s gone. Just...gone, with the security camera missing the footage from the time she disappeared.”

“She just left?” Maggie asks, frowning.

M’gann shrugs.

“It wasn’t entirely unexpected. Maybe she was running from something. Maybe she saw the restrains we strapped her into, and thought we were going to hand her over to the police.”

“Still...” Maggie trails off doubtfully, because M’gann looks entirely unbothered by this ungrateful departure of someone she had helped, without any obligation to do so.

“She came back a few months later, though.” M’gann says. “I’d just about run through my savings trying to keep up with payments on the bar, by then, and that’s when Roulette was nosing around the place, too. Then, this familiar face shows up and just offers to pony up the money, no interest required and no payback date specified.”

“Good deal.” Maggie murmurs skeptically, taking another sip of her drink, “She did that for nothing?”

“She did it to pay me back for her stay here.” M’gann corrects. “I get the feeling money isn’t much of an issue to her. Kryptonians are used to much more complex market systems than Earth’s single-planet one.”

“I’m pretty sure what you just described might count as fraud, M’gann.”

M’gann chuckles.

“Spoken like a true detective.” she says, shaking her head, and moving away to wipe down the counter.

By the time she returns, a new thought has occurred to Maggie, as she remembers other snatches of conversation she had overheard, while delirious and almost unconscious from her and Alex’s ordeal with trying to save Scorcher.

“Her name?” she asks M’gann, on a hunch. “Kara’s aunt’s, I mean...do you know what it is?”

M’gann looks up in bemusement, but it’s a voice behind Maggie that speaks.

“It’s Astra.”

Maggie looks back, to see the Kryptonian who had spoken surveying them with mild disgruntlement, mixed in with amusement. Maggie turns to where she had last seen her near the beer vats, mere seconds ago. She hadn’t even seen Astra move.

“It’s rude to speak about someone when they’re right there.” Astra continues, speaking to M’gann now.

“You didn’t have to listen in.” M’gann shoots back amiably, as she starts polishing a stack of glasses.

“I didn’t.” Astra agrees, sounding entirely unrepentant. “Actually, I came up to tell you that I’ll need to leave now. Apparently, my niece and the Cat need me to meet with them, so I can sign the papers finalizing our organization’s agreement with L Corp. I will return in a few hours, though.”

“Take your time.” M’gann replies, and then grey eyes are turning to survey Maggie instead.

“They’re good boys.” Astra says, when Maggie stares back awkwardly. She nods at the boys lugging kegs out of storage, now under Darla’s direction. “Your friend’s little group. Hard workers.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Maggie says, a little stymied as to what to say. She settles for the obvious “Hey...it looks like I owe you one. Thanks for helping patch me and Alex up, last week.”

Astra’s eyes widen, as if in surprise that Maggie had figured out it was her who Kara had left their care to, but she does look vaguely gratified, as she nods.

“It was no perspiration.” she says. “You are M’gann’s friend, after all.”

“No sweat.” M’gann murmurs. “Synonyms aren’t interchangeable on Earth, Ash.”

Another shrug, this one careless, and then the Kryptonian leaves, heading for the back door as if she were simply another human who couldn’t simply lift off into and crash through the roof into the sky, as her niece once had.

Maggie looks at M’gann, and raises her eyebrows.

“Don’t mind her.” M’gann says, looking exasperated again. “She just likes to be dramatic.”

“Can’t she hear you?” Maggie asks, looking at the door through which Astra had disappeared.

“I meant her to.” M’gann mutters fondly, before taking away Maggie’s finished glass. “And I think one drink is enough for you, Maggie, considering it’s barely evening.”

“So you’re friends with her?” Maggie pushes, half to distract M’gann from inquiring about her reason for drinking so early, but also because she’s curious about this newly discovered side to her Martian friend.

M’gann looks a little bashful, when she nods.

“Don’t me wrong, Maggie.” she says, “Humans are great company when they choose to be, but sometimes it’s nice to speak to someone else who’s been to more than one star system. Just talking about the different planets we’ve lived in, the people we’ve met...it’s nice, to have someone else with that breadth of perspective, especially after what I have to listen to on the news all the time.”

Maggie nods, although it’s a little weird, trying to reconcile the Martian who had travelled to so many planets before Maggie had even been born, to the unassuming woman tending bar in front of her. She clamps down on both the cognitive dissonance and curiosity, so as not to pry further, because M’gann already looks leery of having said so much.

Not thinking about M’gann’s life, though, just brings Maggie back to the subject that she had been trying to avoid, of Cadmus and Scorcher and the dead bodies. What if Maggie was never able to keep her promise to Scorcher, to get her out?

“Seriously, Maggie.” M’gann says, bringing her back from her morbid thoughts again. “I don’t need to read your mind to see that something’s upset you. What’s going on?”

Maggie shakes her head.

“I’m just...it was-” she starts, before giving her head another shake, and stumbling out of the bar stool. “I just need to clear my head a little.”

She avoids M’gann’s eyes, and walks away to one of the tables in the remote corner of the bar, just wanting to forget about everything, if only for a few hours.

\--

Maggie doesn’t register Alex returning to the bar, or even take stock of how much time she herself had spent there, staring a blank wall for hours and obsessing over the events of the day, until the lanky figure folds itself into the chair in front of her.

Alex holds her hands up lazily, as Maggie starts.

“It’s just me, Maggie.” she says.

The first thing that occurs to Maggie is that Alex has changed out of the usual blazers and suits that Maggie has seen her in so far, into a plain sweater and slacks. It looks a little odd, like a panther disguised as a kitten, but Alex seems to inhabit it much more casually than she had the suits and stilettos, if the easy way she’s lounging is any indication.

“Your boys are out on break.” Maggie informs her. “If that’s who you were looking for.”

“I know they are.” Alex says. “They texted me. That’s not why I’m here. I came to check up on _you,_ Maggie.”

Well, damn. While Maggie had been scrutinizing her change in outfit, it seems Alex had been studying her too, because the next question that comes out of her mouth is both to-the-point and startling.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asks.

“Nothing.” Maggie replies immediately, the answer being practically instinctive now. “Why would you ask that?”

“You’re sitting in one place, staring off into space.” Alex points out. “And it looks like you’ve been here for a while. You don’t do that often.”

The observation is pronounced with a surety that defies the relatively short time they’ve known each other.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Maggie repeats, rendered oddly defensive by it.

Alex’s eyes, though, seem captivated by the empty glass twirling under Maggie’s fingers. Maggie realizes that she had been fiddling with it impatiently while deep in thought, and stops the motion immediately.

“Something’s wrong.” Alex insists.

Maggie looks down instead of answering, but there’s a hand on her chin, tilting it up.

“If you’re still worried about that Infernian,” Alex says, when their gazes meet, “I told you, you’ll find her, and I’ll help.”

Maggie shakes her head, and without letting herself think twice about it, tells Alex of the sight that had awaited her at the station that morning, dead bodies and all.

“I know you don’t think much of Scorcher.” she finishes, watching how relatively unconcerned Alex looks, “But, I still made a promise to bring her back. Now, it feels like it’s already too late, if they’re willing to treat even their own allies as expendable.”

Alex shakes her head.

“Let’s not write off our fire-breathing chickens before their heads are cut off.” she says, “If it helps,I’ve been doing a little digging myself, and I’ve found something that might help.”

Maggie, who had been expecting irritating platitudes or commiseration, certainly not the hope of concrete help, stares at Alex in surprise, while the latter seems unusually nervous.

“Well,” Alex begins, sounding tentative. “Remember when you walked in on that meeting between me and the guy who wanted me to design a power supply for the weapon I was selling him?”

Maggie instinctively makes a face,

“You flaunting an illegal transaction right in front of me?” she asks, “Hard to forget, Danvers.”

“He’s not the only guy I ‘ve done that for,” Alex admits. “It was my in. Everyone wants the power that alien weapons can give them, but not many people know how to make them do what they want. That’s where I come in.”

Fuck. The one thing Maggie didn’t want confirmed, and Alex is basically handing it to her on a silver platter.

“Of course.” Maggie murmurs. “But what was your point, Alex?”

“My point is that I’ve modified the software of pretty much every alien-origin weapon that passes through this city.” Alex says. “And yes, I program the weapons to do what the customers want, but that doesn’t mean I can’t add in a little extra.”

Maggie finds herself leaning forward, despite her initial antipathy to hearing more about this. It’s the investigator in her coming out, raring to go after the case, emotional entanglements be damned.

“Like what?” she asks, impatient all of a sudden. “Spill, Danvers.”

“A hidden tracker in every weapon.” Alex says, looking very satisfied with herself. “I programmed them to piggyback off the DEO’s tracking system.”

“And you think this is going to somehow help me.” Maggie says slowly, trying to work it out.

“I’m talking about that weapon that the attackers used to subdue your Infernian buddy.” Alex says. “Human technology hasn’t progressed that far yet, not enough to build a weapon that can inhibit the natural functions of an alien body from a long range.”

“Speak English, Alex.”

“I mean that I recognized it.” Alex says. “That weapon...it was one of mine. One of the thousands that I’ve been tracking the movement of for months now, trying to figure out how many are being transported where. That’s part of how I got so much intel on Roulette’s shenanigans.”

“And?” Maggie pushes.

“Those guys drove off to one of the hotspots I’ve been tracking.” Alex confirms. “The biggest one on my map, actually. They’ve got to be racking up a whole cache of weapons in there by now.”

“But that means...they must have taken her there.” Maggie says, mind evaluating and discarding alternative possibilities on the fly. “They couldn’t have subdued Scorcher without the weapon.”

“Right.” Alex nods. “What are the chances that they’re holding her there still?”

“I don’t know.” Maggie admits. “But it’s our best shot...as long as your intel is right.”

Alex looks offended at the very implication that it might not be.

  
“I mean...what if they’ve hacked your code?” Maggie asks.

“No one else knows about alien technology to the extent I do.” Alex says. “I mean, no one else has really had the chance to look at it up close and personal.”

Maggie vacillates. That sounds like a boast, but she also knows Alex and-

All of a sudden her breath goes out of her, quick and sharp. Her shoulders sag, and she almost flops onto the table, caught off guard by how tense she’d been, and how much Alex’s words had immediately lifted her spirits.

“Maggie?”

Alex is looking down at Maggie concernedly again, obviously unused to seeing her like this. Come to think of it, Maggie can’t remember the last time she’d been this open in front of anyone other than her aunt.

“You don’t know what a relief it is to actually get somewhere.” she says, face still laid against the flat of the table. “To have some ...some _hope_ again.”

Alex shrugs.

“It’s no skin off my back.” she says, “Like I said, I’ve been tracking these weapons for months now.”

Maggie watches her, and there’s a million questions she needs answered, but all she can focus on is her own relief, and Alex’s soft eyes watching her. Alex, who has come back to her, again and again, even though the smarter thing to do would be to stay away. Alex, who has given her hope now, when Maggie hadn’t known where to turn.

“We need to work fast.” Alex continues, seemingly unaware of Maggie’s continued scrutiny. ‘If these guys ar- oof!”

She lets out an exclamation of surprise, as Maggie throws her arms around her. The shock seems to be momentary, though, before Maggie feels strong arms wrapped around her, and a head dropping down to her left shoulder.

“What’s up?” Alex mumbles, her breath making Maggie’s hair flutter.

“Just...thanks.” Maggie mutters. “I was hitting dead ends everywhere, and I was just sitting here imagining all the worst case scenarios and then you came in and-”

She shrugs, and Alex’s body shakes with the movement too, warm and soft against her own, and it feels ...nice. In a different context, it might have incited other feelings and desires inside Maggie, feelings and desires that she might even have acted on. Here with Alex, though, it just feels warm and comforting, and makes Maggie want to close her eyes and freeze in that moment, with Alex’s hand gently running up and down her back.

That serenity flees, though, when the first kiss is pressed against her skin, right at the place where her hairline meets her neck.

Maggie goes stiff, thinking that it must have been an accident, that Alex had simply moved her head at an awkward angle. Alex doesn’t seem to register her freezing, though. Instead, she lifts her head up, and runs comforting fingers through Maggie’s hair, before parting it away from her face and pressing another kiss, this time against her cheek. There’s no mistaking that one, of course, no running away from it.

Maggie pulls away regardless, wide-eyed, but Alex doesn’t look scared or uncertain. Her brows are furrowed, as if confused over Maggie’s abrupt reaction, and her still-outstretched hand twitches, as if wanting to return to its previous position against Maggie’s skin.

“Alex?” Maggie asks, a world of questions packed into a proper name. She feels like she’s run a fucking marathon, all winded and out of breath, and it’s getting worse every time Alex’s eyes flick down to her lips like that.

Alex’s only sign of nervousness is a small swallow before she speaks.

“You looked-” she waves a jittery hand in the air, “all sad and... small... I just... I wanted to make you feel better-” she throws her hands up in frustration. “I don’t know Maggie! It just felt right to do it.”

Fuck. Because it _had_ felt right. Maggie still wants to close her eyes, to forget everything else and sink into the warmth of Alex’s body pressed against hers.

“I didn’t think-” she starts, blinking her eyes and shaking her head, as if the gesture would make that temptation go away. “I mean, that you were-”

“That I was...” Alex swallows again. “That I was gay?”

Maggie’s heart, despite her better judgment, sinks at the haltering way the words are spoken.

“I didn’t.” Alex continues, sounding quite disoriented now, “I’ve never had - it’s never come up-”

She snaps out of her stammers, to stare accusingly at Maggie.

“We’re not here to talk about me.” She says. “We were talking about you. Don’t the change the subject.”

“Alex, you kissed me.” Maggie says, unable to prevent the fraying of her voice, “How are we not going to talk about that?”

A kiss on her lips could have been waved off. Alcohol, nerves, a need for touch, _fine_. That soft kiss on her cheek, though? The one against her side of her neck? There hadn’t been need in that, or want. Just the warmth of comfort.

It’s terrifying.

Alex, though, just looks a little lost.

“I’ve never had a chance to think much about...about this kind of stuff.” she admits. “My life has just kind of been one fuckup after another, Maggie. But, that? It felt right. If I could make you feel just a little better...it felt good.”

She locks stares with Maggie, and suddenly she looks all hungry, something in her eyes making Maggie feel warm all over.

“I want to do that again. More, I mean.”

That final admission, uttered in a tone lower than Alex’s usual register, allows Maggie to find her words again.

“Alex, I can’t.”

If Alex is still figuring this out, Maggie should guide her through this, make it easier for her than it had ever been for Maggie. They can’t be more. Not with Maggie’s track record, not after everything Emily had thrown at her, the night they had broken up.

She realizes, when Alex lowers her eyes and seems to disappear into herself, that Alex doesn’t see it that way. She just thinks that Maggie is...that she’s not interested.

 _Oh._ Maggie revisits that thought, and it’s the train tracks again. Hitting her before she’s really had a chance to process it. _Is_ she interested?

“Alex look at me.”

Maggie scoots closer when Alex is unresponsive. Alex tries to turn away, but Maggie presses forward, inch by inch, encroaching that invisible wall around the other woman, until Alex is looking back at her again.

Alex, her friend. Who had already lost most of her family, just like Maggie had, who kept coming back to Maggie despite being rebuffed so many times. Alex, who had saved her life, and who deserves Maggie’s understanding and guidance in return, if she’s still unsure about this.

A fact that’s hard to remember when Alex is looking at her all needily like that.

“Alex, I’m here for you.”

“Right.” Alex’s reply comes out slightly breathy, like the wind is being expelled from her lungs with it. “For me. Right.”

“I mean, there’s gotta be some kind of gay dating circuit for high-class criminals, right?” Maggie tries, even if the joke is poor. “I could probably get you into it. I’ll ask around the lesbian phone tree.”

Fuck, that’s not a poor joke, it’s downright terrible. She’s so bad at this, and Alex just looks grave, and hurt, and a little irritated.

“Fuck, Danvers, I just-” Maggie stumbles. “I don’t want to make this harder for you, if you’re just figuring all this out.”

“Figuring all _what_ out?” Alex sounds annoyed. “Maggie I kissed...I mean, I was talking about _you._ Not anyone else.”

Maggie meets her eyes and her jaw is working, but nothing useful is coming out. Alex watches her struggle, as if expectantly, but sighs and looks away again when the waiting proves futile.

“It’s fine.” she says. “Forget I said anything.”

“No.” Maggie whispers. “No, Alex, I’m sorry. I just want to be here for you.”

“I’ve done fine on my own.” Alex says flatly. “Let’s just-”

She trails off, eyes suddenly fixating behind Maggie. Maggie follows her gaze, to one of the muted television screens in the bar, which would usually be tuned into sports channels when the bar is open for business, but is currently on the news.

“Attack on L Corp an hour ago.” Maggie reads the caption off the screen. “Police closing off area, employees still in the building evacuated, no indication of motive so far-”

She scrambles to her feet, feeling even guiltier now, and Alex gets right up with her.

“I have to go there.” Maggie says, aware that her words are coming out rambly. “Lena, she could be hurt, and oh god....”

_I didn’t trust her. Even though she warned me._

Maggie is just taking out her phone to text the station, when there is a resounding banging on the bar’s still-closed front entrance.

Alex has her gun out before the next bang, but Maggie is a little slower, still dazed by the news of the attack. She looks back towards the counter, to see Darla hustling the boys who had returned from their break into the storage room, while M’gann and the returned Astra move forward warily, both their bodies tensed.

Maggie turns back when a loud crack sounds, like the locks are being shot in, and then the door is collapsing forward with a deafening thud.

\---

 

Maggie had expected a repeat of the attack at the warehouse, or perhaps some other threat that this shadowy Cadmus group had seen fit to throw at them. The person who stands in the wake of the rubble, however, is neither.

It’s DEO Director Lucy Lane, with five DEO agents arrayed behind her. One of them, Vasquez, at least has the decency to look apologetic, as she trains a weapon in their direction.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding out all this time?” Lucy asks, addressing Alex, and ignoring Maggie and the two aliens near the counter. “In a bar? Why I am not surprised, Danvers?”

Alex looks thoroughly shocked for the first time since Maggie has known her. Her eyes flick uncertainly to Maggie, as if wondering if she had led Lucy here.

“Oh, she didn’t.” Lucy says, as if she had read Alex’s line of thought just as easily as Maggie had. “I just had her followed.”

“Following your own special liaison, Lucy?” Maggie asks evenly, thankful that M’gann had stopped her at that first glass of whisky after all. “That’s all kinds of fucked up, especially after all your talk of how we should be working together.”

“Not more fucked up than you working together with someone who betrayed the DEO and everything it stands for.” Lucy retorts, even though her face looks more contrite than her defiant words suggest.

Before the confrontation can escalate further, an exasperated voice speaks from behind them.

“What do you all think you’re doing?”

Maggie turns to see Astra standing there, with her arms folded. There’s a glint of something blue on her chest, twinkling through her thick sweater and mostly hidden by her folded arms. The Kryptonian is fiddling with her glasses, too, as if on the verge of taking them off.

“You don’t seem like customers.” Astra speaks, as if the five weapons currently swivelling to point at her isn’t a dead giveaway. “M’gann doesn’t allow loiterers here.”

Lucy looks puzzled at the stranger addressing her, looking her up and down as if seeing something familiar in an unfamiliar context.

“Do I know you?”

“You are about to, if you don’t leave.” Astra utters, but then M’gann is walking in front of her, shoving a hand back against a torso that doesn’t budge the slightest against her push.

“What’s all this?” M’gann asks, turning back to Lucy. Her tone isn’t much more polite than Astra’s. “This is my bar. What do you think you’re doing, breaking in here?”

Lucy flips out an FBI badge in reply.

“We’re here to take her.” she says briefly, inclining her head at Alex. “FBI business. I suggest you don’t interfere, ma’am.”

“Good fucking luck with that.” Alex says, finally re-entering the conversation. She shoulders past Maggie’s protective stance in front of her, to plant herself right in front of Lucy. “Don’t you remember what happened the last time you tried to face off against me, Lane?”

“Guess I learned from my mistakes, Danvers.” Lucy says, “But, I’m not here to fight you. I’m just here to do my job.”

“Funny, that was my line once.” Alex says, her smile not at all amused. “But your lot took that away from me, too.”

Maggie steps in front of her again, putting herself between Alex and Lucy, before Alex does something impulsive with the weapon her fingers are clenched around.

“What’s going on, Lucy?” Maggie asks.

“I could ask you that.” Lucy shoots back. “I _asked_ you if there was anything else you wanted to tell me. Did you just happen to leave her out?”

She gestures at Alex, and Maggie feels her hackles rising all of the sudden, and an unusual anger coming to the forefront. She plants her feet even more solidly in front of Alex, as the DEO agents’ guns stay focused on the latter. Even the DEO would have one hell of a time explaining why they shot at a decorated NCPD officer in order to get to a criminal.

“You can’t take her.” Maggie says. “Not after everything we discussed. What about justice? What about a fair trial?”

“That’s not even what this is about, but fine.” Lucy snaps. “She’ll get it, as long as she comes quietly.”

“Like my sister got a fair trial?” Alex snaps, “Like _J’onn_ did, for trying to save the city?”

“You know I didn’t make that decision, Alex.”

“But you stood by and let your father go through with it.” Alex accuses. “And now you want me to go with you quietly?”

She makes to shove past Maggie again, but Maggie stays firm.

“I said I’m fine on my own.” Alex says, turning her furious gaze down to her. “You don’t have to babysit me, Maggie, not in this or anything else.”

The next time she tries to move past, Maggie grips her, and if her grip is tight and desperate, she doesn’t want to think about all the reason why, right now.

“No you don’t.” she growls, past caring about how it sounds. Alex cannot die. Alex cannot even be hurt. Those two things seem paramount, right now. “I’m coming with you. Ride or fucking die, Danvers. Deal with it.”

Alex just looks down at her, all focused and intense, like there’s no one in the world except herself and Maggie.

“Fine.” Alex says, breathing hard. Her face snaps back up, to where Lucy is staring at them with some surprise. “I’ll come quietly, as long as she’s with me.”

“You’re not in the position to be making demands, Danvers.”

“I am unless you want this to turn into a bloodbath.” Alex says. “We both know I can put up one hell of a fight, and I’ve gotten away from you before.”

“Fine.” Lucy snaps. “She can come.”

Now, another obstacle makes itself known. M’gann blocks the path of Maggie and Alex, as they move towards Lucy.

“I’m not letting Maggie go anywhere by herself.”

Alex looks at Maggie questioningly. Maggie shares a glance with M’gann before nodding back at Alex, who just turns and inclines an eyebrow at Lucy.

“Christ, _fine_.” Lucy says, putting her hands up and looking exasperated. “Anyone else looking for a one way trip to a black site? Seeing as it looks like I’m running a tour bus here.”

Astra steps forward, mouth open, but M’gann stalls her with a hand.

“Stay at the bar, Ash.” she says. “Someone might need help.”

Astra looks mutinous, but nods and hangs back, watched curiously by Lucy again. The latter’s attention snaps back to Alex, though, when she moves forward, looking sarcastically at the array of weapons instantly pointed at her.

“I said I’ll come quietly.”

Lucy just nods, face pale compared to its usual light-brown shade. She prods Aex forward, and the rest of her agents move into formation behind Maggie and M’gann, leading them out to waiting black vans.

“Let’s go. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

\---

 

The first thing Lucy does when they reach the DEO is pull Alex away into a solitary conversation behind closed doors. Maggie watches them disappear down one of the myriad hallways of the DEO, reasonably sure that Alex won’t come to any harm. That doesn’t stop her from peering down at the hallway long after they disappear from sight, though, before she turns away.

M’gann sits quietly at an empty terminal near Vasquez, looking a little uncomfortable, but resigned to the waiting game. Maggie, on the other hand, feels caged in this unfamiliar setting that she has very little control in, and compensates for it by walking obsessively around the terminals in the open workspace, trying to get an idea of what is being worked on.

On her third circuit, her brain computes a familiar figure bent over one of the terminals, gesturing at something on the screen, as the agent seated at the terminal follows the instructions that are being murmured down to him. Maggie tilts her head lower to peek through the rivers of hair obscuring the figure’s face, before she speaks.

“Lena?”

Lena Luthor turns away from the terminal and walks over to Maggie, looking completely unsurprised to see her.

“You’re okay.” Maggie says, for want of a better opening parley.

Lena shrugs, still not looking entirely friendly, which Maggie thinks is probably warranted, after their last conversation.

“Okay is relative.” Lena says. “One minute, I’m trying to catch up on some paperwork I’m behind on. The next, my company and everything I’ve built is under attack, with the attackers possibly sent by my own family. And now, here I am, being held for what is apparently my own _safety._ ”

“Hey, we’re just trying to protect you.” says the agent whose terminal Lena had been looming over. “Those guys were going to take you out.”

“People have been trying to take me out my entire life, Agent...Winn, wasn’t it?” Lena says, looking unimpressed. “I don’t exactly come from a family that flies under the radar.”

The agent addressed as Winn shrugs, looking sheepish, before turning back to his terminal.

“This is so cool, though.” he murmurs, seemingly forgetting all about their conversation. “I can’t believe you came up with a way to enhance my algorithm this fast.”

“I worked on something similar before.” Lena replies, heading back to this terminal without further ado, as if to pointedly signify to Maggie that their conversation was over.

“At least we got her out safe.” a voice says lowly from behind Maggie. “You’d think that warrants some trust.”

Maggie turns to find Agent Vasquez surveying Lena’s retreating figure, her usually self-possessed face looking disgruntled .That is, until she turns to Maggie, whereupon her expression takes on a considerable degree of hesitation instead.

“We headed over there soon as we heard of the attack.” Vasquez says. “We’d been keeping tabs on the building for a while...we thought it might come under fire soon.”

“The other employees-” Maggie starts.

“-Weren’t there, except for two security guards, and they were already out, somehow.” Vasquez finishes for her. “She was the only one who hadn’t clocked out for the day. We have the building on lockdown, just in case of further attacks, but the director thought that Miss Luthor might be safer here.”

Looking back at Lena, who is still obviously avoiding their direction, Maggie wonders if she feels similarly, shut up in the underground lair of a secret organization that has secrets piled upon secrets piled upon dead bodies.

Maggie wonders if she herself does.

“Come on.” Vasquez interrupts, guiding her away from the open workspace towards the hallway that Alex and Lucy had disappeared down.

“Where are we going?” Maggie asks, but Vasquez just winks at her, and leads her to the fifth room down the hallway.

When she inserts a card in the pad by the door, and pushes it open, what greets them is the sight of Lucy looming over Alex, who is lounging truculently in a chair and looking somewhat bored. Surprise and annoyance fills Lucy’s face, when she turns to face the new entrants.

“You’re not allowed in here.” she says to Maggie.

Before Maggie can open her mouth to argue, Alex cuts in.

“She can stay.” Alex says.

“Like I already said, you don’t call the shots here, Alex.”

“She stays, or I don’t talk.” Alex retorts. “You’ve got me outnumbered a hundred to one. Are you telling me that you can’t let the one person who’s on my side stick with me?”

 _Her_ side. Maggie finds it unable to focus on anything but that. Presumptuous of Alex to say it, except that Maggie realizes she is right. She _is_ on Alex’s side, even if the woman might be still be a mystery to her.

“This isn’t going to go any easier on you with a buddy system.” Lucy says, but she waves Maggie to a seat at the table, regardless.

“I don’t see why you were worried, Lane.” Alex says now, obviously going back to the argument the two had been having before Maggie had interrupted. “I’d have gotten you the information eventually.”

“You shot at an agent!”

“She recovered. I needed to make my escape believable.”

“Your escape?” Lucy echoes, “Was it payback? Is this about Kara? J’onn?”

“Regardless of whatever it was about,” Alex says, dismissing the question with a careless flick of her hand, “I made the right call in cutting contact. I’d just made my way into Roulette’s inner circle. She would have been immediately suspicious if I kept being taken in by the FBI and then miraculously escaping. Do you really think that was her first runaround with this kind of sting operation?”

“You want me to believe that you planned your betrayal deliberately.” Lucy says, skepticism evident in her tone.

“You can believe what you want.” Alex says carelessly. “But, I wouldn’t have been able to infiltrate their operation the way I did, without going deep undercover. If that meant cutting off ties, it had to be done.”

“Then you should have arranged that with us beforehand.” Lucy insists.

“Didn’t feel like it.” Alex says, with a careless shrug of her shoulders. “Your dad didn’t exactly arrange it with me, before he decided to kill off my sister. Or when he carted J’onn off to execution.”

Lucy just looks exhausted.

“I’m not my dad, Alex.”

“I’ve been compiling the information you need.” Alex snaps, as if she too is tired of this performance. “You would have received it when I was done.”

“But you cut off all contact with us.” Lucy hisses. “What if you’d died before you’d completed the mission? What would have happened then?”

“I had a death switch program set up.” Alex says, not sounding particularly concerned. “If I did die in the middle of the operation, all the information I’d collected would be transmitted to you automatically.”

“You wanted to cut ties with us that badly?” Lucy asks.

“After what you did to J’onn and Kara?” Alex asks. “Can you blame me?”

“No one here wanted that to happen to them, Alex.”

“No.” Alex shoots back, “That was all your father, wasn’t it? And _you_ stood behind him.”

“I didn’t have the full information at that time!”

Alex shrugs again.

“Regardless of if I stayed in touch,” she says, “I did what I was assigned to do. I’ve got the downlow on every supply route in the city. I know who controls just about every one of them, and I’ve got pretty damning evidence on most.”

Evidence that Alex had handed to her instead, Maggie remembers. No wonder the DEO had snatched up her case against Roulette immediately.

“But you did all this so recklessly.” Lucy argues. “You could have been badly hurt.”

Alex shrugs.

“I don’t think you cared, did you?” Maggie asks, cutting into the conversation.

Her quiet words give way to pin drop silence, before Alex looks up at Maggie.

There’s something like an apology in her eyes. Maggie remembers that night, long ago, at fourteen years old, being left out on the street for her aunt to come pick her up, with only the change of clothing that she could pack up. She remembers how it felt like her world had ended, and there was no future ahead, until it had come back together again, little by little, when living under _zia_ Anita’s roof.

She can’t help but feeling that the same thing had happened to Alex, to make her come to this conclusion, where she didn’t care what happened to her, in a world without the people she considered family.

“For what it’s worth,” Alex says, as she looks at Maggie, “I don’t feel that way anymore.”

Maggie pursues her lips, unsure how to take that. Lucy intervenes before she can formulate a reply.

“Well, like it or not, you’re the DEO’s foremost resource on aliens.” Lucy says. “We’re going to have a much better chance of taking down Cadmus, if we work together.”

“Hold on.” Maggie interrupts, while Alex just looks confused. “Take down Cadmus? We don’t even know what Cadmus is.”

Lucy looks impatient, before her eyes widen.

“Oh, right. We haven’t briefed you on that yet.”

“Brief me on what?” Maggie asks.

“You asked me before,” Lucy says, “where the aliens were taken to, before we built our holding facility, when they got put into DEO custody.”

“Yeah, no one can seem to give me a straight answer on that.” Maggie remarks, remembering asking the question of Captain Rivera too. “Why is that?”

“Because, the answer wasn’t easy to find.” Lucy replies. “I’ve had to pull a lot of strings in the military, just to get to the classified archives holding that information.”

“Why not just ask your father?” Alex snipes, sounding both poisonous and curious all at once, as if she’s interested in the matter at hand despite her better judgment.

“I don’t talk to my dad much anymore, Alex.” Lucy says, her voice defiant but pitched low. “I went through my own contacts on this.”

“What did you find?” Maggie asks, intervening before they can argue again.

“I found Cadmus.” Lucy replies simply.

“Boss, you could give a primetime drama a run for its money, with your suspenseful silences.” Vasquez puts in. ‘How about we just tell them what we found, straight up?”

Lucy looks a little embarrassed at being ribbed like that, and Maggie catches a glint of amusement in even Alex’s eyes, before she continues.

“What I mean is that before Henshaw... I mean, J’onn...took over the DEO,” Lucy says, “I think you all know that this organization wasn’t exactly discriminate about bringing in any alien unlucky enough to show up on the radar.”

“Where did they go?” Maggie repeats.

“Cadmus.” Lucy says. “They were shipped off to a secret government facility called Cadmus. From what I can find in the declassified military archives, their stated goal was to use science to further defensive strategies against hostile extraterrestrial forces.”

“Oh god.” Alex whispers, seemingly having realized the true meaning of Lucy’s words faster than anyone else.

“Why do I get the feeling that ‘using science’ is a euphemism in this context?” Maggie asks Lucy.

“Because what it really seems to have come down to is... experimenting with their bodies.” Lucy says, her face looking taut. “Trying to hurt them. Trying to figure out what makes them vulnerable. Straight up torture, in some cases. _That’s_ where the DEO sent the aliens unfortunate enough to cross their path.”

Maggie can’t help turning to Alex as the words sink in, but Alex seems just as horrified as how she herself must look.

“I promise, Maggie.” she says, seeking Maggie’s gazes to the exclusion of everyone else, for some reason. “I promise, I never knew that we sent them there.”

She looks repulsed, to a magnitude that Maggie is surprised at, until she remembers Kara.

“You didn’t know about it, because it was long over by the time you were hired.” Lucy continues. “I checked through the archives. There was an order from the then-President, ten years ago, for the organization to be dissolved, after the Director had requested that the DEO be allowed to deal in-house with any hostiles arrested.”

“J’onn.” Alex corrects her, still looking shell-shocked. “After J’onn requested it. He would’ve been the director at that time.”

“Right.”

“Then why are this Cadmus still kidnapping aliens?” Alex growls out, now looking absolutely furious. “Did your dad and his posse have any answers for that, Lane?”

“You think I don’t know better than you ever could, what our government has been complicit in?” Lucy snaps, rounding furiously on Alex. “But I _told_ you, they were supposed to be disbanded.”

“They must have gone rogue.” Maggie says.

“And we’ve got to stop them.” Lucy finishes, now sounding resolute, but no less furious than Alex. “Even aside from the rights violations, they’re poaching on DEO’s mandate. That’s a pretty clear provocation.”

“So that’s why I’m here?” Alex asks. “So you can force me to give you the information you need, to take them down?”

“I’m not going to force you, Alex.” Lucy says.

“Then what?”

“I’m asking you to please help us. Help us take down Cadmus and rescue the aliens they took.”

Alex bares her teeth in a rictus smile, and throws back one word in answer.

“No.”

“Look,” Lucy sighs, “I know that what my dad did to Supergirl and J’onn wasn’t right. Believe me when I say that I tried my best to stop him, after James filled me in on everything that was going on.”

“You obviously didn’t try hard enough, seeing as J’onn and my sister are both gone. “Alex says, her face entirely unforgiving.

“If you come back to us, I promise that everything you’ve done until now can be worked out.” Lucy insists. “There were mitigating circumstances. I’ll take it up with the Pentagon, if I have to. Just as long as you agree to work with us again.”

To Maggie’s eyes, Alex looks almost remorseful, tempted by the idea of having a purpose again, of being part of something bigger than herself.

Her final answer, though, is another shake of her head.

Lucy looks resigned, when she sees that. Maggie sees her gaze move up behind Alex, to the agents flanking her. One of them is holding a set of actual iron handcuffs, which is something Maggie hasn’t seen in a while.

The agents hesitate, looking back at Lucy uncertainly. Of course, Maggie realizes. They must have worked with Alex for _years_ , must have put their lives in her hands many times, and now they have to put her in chains on the order of a commander who doesn’t seem to have been with them for very long.

Lucy, though, looks equally uncertain and unwilling, as she stares into Alex’s defiant face.

“Just...just let her stay in one of the holding cells.” she says in a low voice, waving away the handcuffs. “Let’s figure this out in the morning.”

Alex’s eyes widen at the unexpected leniency, but she doesn’t protest as Vasquez and Demos grasp her hands and lead her down another hallway, the former looking at Alex apologetically as she does so.

\---

 

Maggie is a little uncertain as to what to do, after Alex is taken to her holding cell, but Lucy doesn’t seem to mind her around, so she wanders around Vasquez’s terminal, listening in on the agents’ conversation while trying not to draw too much attention to herself.

Eventually, though, Vasquez breaks away from the other agents, and approaches her.

“Want to see Alex?” Vasquez asks, and continues before Maggie can answer. “She looked like she might need someone to talk to. I can get you a couple of hours without being disturbed, if you want.”

Maggie hesitates and eyes Lucy in the distance, who seems to be reading down a report displayed on her console.

“Shouldn’t you be asking your Director for permission?” she stalls, wondering if this is some sort of trap.

“I don’t think Lucy will mind.” Vasquez says, leading her down the hallway down which Alex had been taken, without a single glance back at the director. “She already feels a lot of guilt over what happened to Alex. I don’t think she’ll begrudge her a friend coming to visit.”

Friend. The word rings uncomfortably in Maggie’s ears, the press of Alex’s lips on her cheek still palpable, as she follows Vasquez down the hallways.

They reach a spacious room with a glass cylinder in the middle of it, inside which Alex is lounging, staring around at her surrounding as if cataloguing the room.

Vasquez gives Alex a cordial nod, which Alex surprisingly returns in similar fashion, before silently leaving, leaving Maggie staring at Alex through the glass partition.

“You know, it’s funny.” Alex says, breaking the silence as a dry smile plays around her lips. “I’m kind of used to being on the other side.”

“You need to have better timing.” Maggie informs her. “This isn’t the time to be developing a sense of humor. Where’s the grumpy con I know?”

Alex smiles again, before shrugging.

“Well, now you know pretty much everything.” she says. “You know what I did, and how far I was willing to go. Verdict?”

Her words are light, but brittle, and her eyes are overbright. Maggie stares at her through the glass, wishing they had more time to talk about this, that she didn’t have to find out in this way, with Alex behind bars in a secret organization that could very well be bugging everything they are saying to each other right now.

“You keep throwing me for a loop, Danvers.” she says, her throat feeling all clogged up. “But, if I’m still here after everything else, did you really think that this was going to be the last straw?”

Alex still looks unsure.

“Do you know why I got so angry at you, before, for keeping the truth from me?” Maggie asks.

Alex nods, but Maggie continues anyways, pointing down to her badge.

“Because I had nothing else but this.” she says. _Until I met you, anyway._

Alex just waits patiently for her to continue.

“I don’t have a family to fall back on, Alex. I’m not close with my parents. My girlfriends tend not to stick around and I don’t exactly blame them-”

She throws up an arresting gesture, when Alex suddenly looks furious at that.

“But the one thing I have going for me? Is my job. Showing up to it everyday keeps me going. I know it’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got. And when it got put in jeopardy, I freaked out.”

“I didn’t know, Maggie.” Alex says, and her face is thoughtful, like she’s reading more into Maggie’s words than what had been on the surface.

Maggie shakes her head.

“But,” Alex sounds tentative, but also resolute, “That wasn’t all, was it?”

Maggie swallows.

“No.” she replies in a whisper.

“You said I underestimated you.” Alex reminded her. “You sounded like I thought you were stupid or something.”

Maggie purses her lips, unable to meet Alex’s eyes anymore. The memory of the humiliation returns, of thinking how Alex had played her for a fool. That the woman that Maggie had thought of as a friend, who she thought had seen her as an equal too, had only seen her as a pawn to be used.

“Maggie, listen to yourself.” Alex insists, breaking Maggie out of that spiral. “You saved Lena from her family’s attacks. You’re the only reason that we know Cadmus exists. I’ve kept things from you, but never because I thought you were stupid. You’re... you were -”

She stops, looking overwhelmed, but takes a deep breath and seems to gather herself together.

“Sometimes, you were the only reason I kept going through this.”

“No.” Maggie whispers. Alex can’t - she can’t say things like that, not now, when Maggie might not be able to see her again.

“Yes.” Alex says firmly. “Maggie, I’ve known loneliness too. They took my father away. They killed my sister. My mother was in the hospital. When I turned my back on the DEO, the one thing I knew was that even if I died, the best I could do was to honor my family’s legacy. But, it was so lonely, working day after day knowing that I had absolutely no one to rely on and all I really felt was anger, for what they had done to everyone I loved.”

Again, it seems that their stories echo each other. Except for the part where Maggie knows something Alex doesn’t.

“But, talking to you?” Alex continues, ignorant of the struggle going on inside Maggie. “Just _talking_ to you helped. Because, then my work wasn’t just something abstract done for the greater good; it was this real thing, it was about making it easier for you, and other people like you.”

“Danvers, what the hell?” Maggie asks, half-disbelieving.

Alex gives a self-conscious laugh.

“I just needed you to know that.” she says. “That no matter what happened, you were one of the reasons I kept going.”

“You didn’t have to say that.” Maggie tells her, “I’m sticking by you regardless, you know. You did what you thought you had to do, Danvers. Doesn’t mean I agree with it, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to abandon you, either.”

“Yeah?” Alex asks, in a low voice that’s almost shy.

Maggie shrugs, a little embarrassed.

“Pretty words or not, I told you, you got yourself a ride or die.”

The moment of cold clarity, when she had realized what Alex had been willing to do to herself, had driven a lot of things home for Maggie. Chief among them is the fact that she cannot lose Alex. In whatever way Alex exists in her life doesn’t matter as much as the fact that she does, and will continue to do so.

“Hey Danvers,” Maggie starts again, and waits until Alex nods in acknowledgment before continuing. “I was watching some videos last week, about that time the DEO apprehended Supergirl downtown.”

Alex’s expression immediately becomes shuttered, and despite her eagerness to dig out the truth, Maggie feels a sympathetic ache.

“We don’t need to talk about it, if you don’t want to.” she offers, “I just have a question.”

Alex nods at her to continue, although she still looks wary.

“In the video, they showed the DEO picking up her body.” Maggie reveals. “Supergirl’s, I mean.”

Alex flinches.

“But, it was just one agent who picked up the body, Alex.” Maggie soldiers on. “You could see other agents milling around, as if offering to help. But, that lone agent picks up the body, and moves it to the van, while the other agents trail after them.”

“What do you know, Maggie?” Alex murmurs. “Why would you pick up on something like that?”

“That agent was you, wasn’t it?” Maggie asks, uncomfortably side-stepping Alex’s astute question.

Alex’s smile is morose, and is all the confirmation Maggie needs.

“I’ll give Lucy this much.” Alex finally says. “I _do_ owe her for letting me say goodbye.”

“What do you mean?”

“Her dad wanted to take away the body.” Alex says. “Wanted to keep it for research. But Lucy let me break into her holding area, and perform the proper death rites.”

She looks up, her gaze far away, as if she she could see through the roof of the DEO, through the layers of dirt and soil and sky, up to the stars above.

“In Krypton, they sent members of their military guild to the stars after death. I thought it would be the closest I could come to giving Kara a proper funeral. I put her into her pod, and sent it out into space, on a trajectory that no system on Earth could track fast enough. I couldn’t do anything more, but at least no human can ever recover her body and desecrate it, and I couldn’t have done that without Lucy.”

A trajectory that no system on Earth could track. But not impossible, Maggie guesses, for a determined Kryptonian searching doggedly over months, to find.

Before she can ponder the possibility of that, Alex’s right hand twitches and drums against the glass, as if to get her attention.

“I just realized it a few minutes before you came in.” she explains, when Maggie looks at her questioningly. “This is the exact cell they put J’onn in, when they first locked him up.”

Maggie’s frowns upon hearing that name again, a name for which she has no context.

“J’onn?”

“My supervisor.” Alex explains. “He was the previous DEO director, and also the Martian who tried to stop Supergirl. The military found out he was an alien in disguise, and took him into custody for execution.”

Maggie’s eyes widen, but Alex doesn’t seem to notice. She looks thoughtfully at the glass, before pressing a hand against it, and staring at Maggie expectantly.

“What?” Maggie asks, puzzled.

Alex looks embarrassed. Her fingers twitch against the glass again, and she turns her gaze downward.

“It’s stupid.” Alex murmurs, “It’s just, when they J’onn in here, I went to visit him. He looked so alone, so I put my hand out and-”

Her voice peters out, and she removes the hand from the glass, looking even more embarrassed.

Suddenly, it clicks to Maggie.

“Put it back.” she tells Alex.

At a beat of hesitation, Alex’s hand returns, fingers splayed out against the glass. Maggie matches it on the other side of the glass with her smaller one, shifting the fingers into place until each digit exactly mirrors the angle of Alex’s corresponding one. It’s the only comfort she can presently provide for the one woman in her life who seems to see her deeper than anyone else, without even trying.

Alex fairly beams at the gesture, and Maggie’s heart stutters for a moment. She tries not to feel guilty for the abject happiness she feels over that smile, and over Alex’s heartfelt words from before, because the knowledge of Kara is still nagging at her, intruding into every moment they share.

But, that secret isn’t hers to tell, so Maggie just leans against the glass, letting her hand slide down to a resting position, and talks to Alex until it’s late into the night, and they’re both nodding off.

\---

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this update out by the end of September, to make up for missing that update in July, but alas, earwax. I knew this chapter was going to be long, because it was outlined to tie up most of the overarcing mysteries before the story heads into the final arc, but I didn't realize it was going to be 16k long :P Abject apologies to anyone who stuck till the end :P
> 
> Next chapter, as I remember previously promising, is from Alex's PoV, and from now on, as it's the final arc, the rest of story is going to fluctuate between both Maggie and Alex's point of view, as serves the narrative.
> 
> And before I forgot, many thanks to Kendrick for listening patiently to more of my thoughts & insecurities regarding this fic/chapter than any non-shipper should have been subjected to, and for making a bet with me to get this posted by September 30. A bet I obviously lost, but at least I'm only three days late :P And seriously THANKS TO ANYONE STILL READING THIS!!! Despite the long-ass chapters!!!
> 
> P.S: Oh, I almost forgot! RE: the Kryptonians with glasses thing. I'm basically going by the established Superman/Supergirl rules wherein even people close to them don't seem to make the link bewteen Kryptonians in battle uniform vs. the same Kyrptonians in civilian outfits with glasses. I know it's a ridiculous disguise, but it's effective in canon (except when the show writers forget their own canon *sideyes*), so in this fic, that disguise holds. For all Kryptonians.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out I inadvertently lied in my previous chapter. I said last chapter that this chapter would be Alex's PoV. Turns out it's going to have both Alex and Maggie's PoV, marked appropriately. Turns out I can't write this story without getting into Maggie's head in each chapter. Not that I'm complaining ;)
> 
> In a spectacular display of poor planning, I'm uploading this chapter in such a timeframe where some events in it look to be direct responses to things that happened in Supergirl 3x03. Please note a) This chapter was outlined months ago, and most of it was written before the episode aired and b) I haven't actually watched past 3x01.

**Alex**

Maybe it’s due to being back in the DEO after more than a year, but Alex’s first moments upon waking up are ones of sheer disorientation. After all, she seems to be on the wrong side of the glass. And where’s her backup? J’onn is going to kill her for visiting a holding cell without another agent present.

A full sweep of the room around her is needed, before the events of the previous night come back. Right. The ambush. The arrest. Kara dead, months ago. J’onn gone, months ago. 

And Maggie, here now, slumped against the other side of the glass, her head gently swaying against the surface as she breathes. Alex knows she should use every spare second she has to to catalogue the room around her, evaluating everything she can use to her advantage. Her body, though, seems content to just lean against the glass in the position she had woken up in, and watch Maggie, a foregone conclusion already made in her heart. 

“I think I might have gotten myself into something I can’t escape here, Kara.” she mumbles out, after a few moments of study, and then freezes.

Fuck, that hasn’t happened in more a year.

It had been a habit she had developed in the first few months of Kara’s death. The first few months, it hadn’t seemed unusual to go about her daily operations at the DEO, murmuring to Kara about her day, about the petty annoyances, about how fucked up it had all turned out. Both habit, and an impossible hope, had fuelled it. Hope that Kara, who had believed so devoutly that they would all be reunited in Rao’s light, might hear her. That she would reply. That she would return. That, one day, Alex wake up to Nickleback playing overloud in her kitchen, and walk in to find her sister dancing along poorly to the beat while flipping pancakes, still famished after raiding half of Alex’s fridge.

Looking back now, it seems to foolish to Alex; a ridiculous faith that defied all the beliefs of her scientific mind. But then, what good were little sisters for, except to annoy the living shit out of you, and make you believe in the impossible?

But, the ice cream in the freezer had stayed untouched, as had the growing mountain of leftovers in the fridge. The antique radio in the kitchen had remained tuned in to the 80s rock channel that Alex preferred, and there had been no sister making a mess out of her counter with pancake batter. As the months passed, and hope faded, so did the habit. 

Until today, when it had somehow reared its head out of whatever depths of her subconsciousness that it had been mired in.

Alex goes through the possible reasons why such a thing should have happened, systematically eliminating the impossibilities, and weighing up the probabilities of the remaining reasons. A clear outlier is indicated almost immediately: Maggie Sawyer. This renewal of hope, it seems, is just another thing Maggie awakens in her. Sometimes, she feels like she had been dead before, and Maggie had awoken her, had breathed life into emotions that Alex hadn’t known herself capable of feeling. The lingering warmth that persists in her body, whenever Maggie comes to contact with it, even it’s just a fleeting touch of fingers. The feeling of drowning just when looking at Maggie’s face, getting caught up in her rare smiles, in the crinkling of her eyes when she’s amused.

And the want, the persistent want, even when separated by distance and ideologies. Or, currently, by a thin glass wall.

“Fuck.” Alex mumbles. It’s a lot to take in, all at once. 

“Hey.”

Alex freezes, watching the shifting body on the other side of the glass. She watches a little too long, before realizing that she hasn’t replied yet.

“Hey.” she echoes back, frantically working the word around her stuffy tongue, when Maggie turns back to face her, eyes blinking blearily open.

“How are you?” Maggie asks, the words slurring into each other. Her eyes are soft and glassy, and the muscles of her face are loose in a way that Alex has never seen them before. 

This is the Maggie, Alex realizes, and it’s like a shock to her system to figure it out, that someone would see if they woke up next to her in the morning. This blinking, soft-eyed vision with tousled hair, who makes her heart ache, yet another thing that Alex is entirely unfamiliar with.

“I’m good.” she says. It comes out over-defensive, some kind of mechanism to prove to herself that she isn’t as affected as she fears she is. “I mean, as good as can be, considering all... this.”

She waves at the smooth walls of the cell as she says this, and then immediately regrets the gesture, when Maggie’s eyes turn sharp and alert in response, obviously adjusting to the situation too.

“Not where I expected to end up, when I headed into the station yesterday.” Maggie says, looking around and releasing a soft sigh.

Alex feels the familiar sting of responsibility. An old friend, the only companion carried over from her past life.

“I’m sorry.” she says, the words sounding as inadequate as ever. “You shouldn’t have been dragged into this.”

When Maggie looks over to her, there is a slight flash of annoyance in her usually mellow dark eyes.

“I chose to come along.” she says, her voice clear and firm. “I’ve got something riding on this too, Alex.”

Alex nods at the implication behind that, and slouches back against the glass.

“I know you think I should co-operate with them.” she says defeatedly.

“I didn’t say that.” Maggie protests.

“But we both know it’s the right thing to do.”

“I can find other ways.” Maggie says. “I always do. I didn’t close a record number of cases last year by getting help from secret organizations, Alex. I’ll be fine.”

Alex nods, but she knows the words to be hollow. Maggie  _ would _ be able to find another way, she has no doubt of that, but co-operating would give them resources to find Cadmus more easily, and bring the kidnapped aliens home faster. Now, if only doing so didn’t feel like the ultimate betrayal.

She looks around her, at the same walls that had once held J’onn, for the unforgivable crime of having been born on the wrong planet. 

“I think I always kind of justified it to myself, how we treated them.” Alex admits suddenly, looking down.

She’s aware of Maggie watching her closely, and of the fact that she doesn’t bother to ask who Alex means by  _ them _ . After all, that’s how it had been, for the longest time. It had been easier that way. A clear line between  _ us  _ and  _ them,  _ a line that even J’onn had enforced, until Kara had put on that red cape, and blurred everything up.

“I told myself that, as long as I didn’t think they were all bad, it was okay.” Alex continues. “That, as long as they were the enemy, then whatever we did... it was  _ necessary.  _ I mean, the  _ world _ was at stake.”

She realizes she’s looking down to avoid seeing the judgment in Maggie’s eyes. When she lifts her head back up, though, stubborn and half-defiant, she doesn’t find that in the gaze levelled at her. There’s only cautious understanding.

“I didn’t realize what a double standard it was, until they did it to J’onn. And... to  _ her _ .” Alex finishes, her voice small.

It’s a moot point; a realization come too late, and useless even before then, but Maggie doesn’t seem interested in pointing that out. Instead, she’s directing a tentative smile at Alex, resigned and wistful.

“Do what’s right for you.” Maggie says.

What’s right for her has never really been part of her decision-making framework, so when Alex nods, it’s out of habit rather than agreement.

Maggie eyes her askance, and seems on the verge of saying something, before her mouth opens in a comical yawn. Her eyes widen and she claps a hand over her mouth immediately, but Alex can only laugh, still wondering at the rare chance to get to see this unguarded side of Maggie. Maggie joins in with a smile after a few seconds, stretching as she does so. 

“I need a drink, and a wash.” she says, grimacing as her bones crack, Alex able to hear the muted noise past the glass partition. “And M’gann, I need to go check up on her. She must still be here.”

The last words are spoken with an urgency that makes Alex lean forward with some interest.

“Go.” she says, when Maggie looks at her hesitantly.

“What about you?” Maggie asks. “Are you going to be okay here?” 

The concern in her voice feels both foreign and ancient. Alex hasn’t heard such a question directed at her in a long time, not since Kara and J’onn. It just intensifies the newfound aches in her heart, makes the wanting deeper. 

“Go check up on your friend.” she insists. “Seriously, I’ll be fine.”

She gives Maggie directions to the nearest washroom, her memory of the building still near-photographic, and watches stoically as she hurries out into the hallway, after a quick smile thrown backwards.

Alex waits a few more minutes - to be sure that Maggie can’t be implicated in this in any way - before casually sweeping her gaze upwards to where the hidden cameras should be, if their locations haven’t been changed since her time here.

A few seconds of study later, she flops back against the glass, one hand casually coming down to rest in a position where her torso hides it from the angle of sight of one camera, and the black base of the cell shadows it from that of the other. She keeps an ear out for footsteps coming her way, as her fingers works to slide out the disruptor chip she had hidden in her watch. 

It’s a bit of a gamble, this plan. Alex had programmed the containment disruptor back when J’onn had been imprisoned by General Lane here, taking advantage of the fact that she herself had been part of the team that designed these computer-operated containment cells. She had never had a chance to use it then, but perhaps, if Lucy hadn’t thought to modify the containment protocols...

Alex finally finagles the chip out of the watch, and wastes no time in slotting it into the port at the bottom of the cell, that she had previously torn off the covering to. There’s a satisfying click, and then a hiss of air escaping, as the glass walls slide backwards into each other, leaving just enough of an opening for Alex to walk through.

She gets up at a leisurely pace, smiling as a growing noise soon makes itself heard outside, underscored by the rhythmic thump of booted steps running on carpeted floor. By the time Vasquez and a team of armed agents enter the containment area, Alex is leaning against of the separated partitions of glass, hands lazily held up.

“Why am I not even surprised, Danvers?” Vasquez asks, sounding exasperated rather than angry. 

“You shouldn’t have put me in the cells I helped to program.” Alex says with a shrug. “Or, did you forget that?”

To her mild surprise, Vasquez neatly sidesteps her question.

“You’re not making this any easier on yourself.” the agent sighs. “What do you want? What was this about?”

“Let me talk to Lucy.” Alex requests.

Vasquez shakes her head.

“All this for that?” she mutters, before waving a hand at Alex to come forward. “Better late than never, I guess. Fine, come on.”

\---

 

**Alex**

Alex thinks she ought to be angry, seeing Lucy seated at the console that J’onn had habitually leaned against. What washes over her, though, is the same old old grief, at this renewed confirmation that he’s truly gone.

“Really, Danvers?” Lucy asks, rounding on her immediately and sparing Alex no chance to wallow in her loss. “You couldn’t have just told security that you wanted to see me? You had to pull that little stunt?”

“I thought I could liven up your life a little.” Alex shoots back.

In retrospect, maybe it had been a foolish thing to do. A last ditch attempt at assuming some little control of the situation. One final fuck you, before submitting to the decision that Alex had already known she would make, since the moment that Maggie had stepped up to her containment cell, and told Alex that she was going to stick by her through this.

“It gave your team something to do besides sitting around waiting for leads to pop out of thin air.” she continues, and feels a savage satisfaction when Lucy’s eyes narrow.

“Is that what you think we do, with you not around?” Lucy asks. The expression on her face is similar to Vasquez’s exasperated one, but there’s curiosity mingled in there, too.

“Well, seeing as you hadn’t gotten anywhere until now...” Alex replies, drawling off tauntingly.

“If you’re looking to go for Round Two on the insult tradeoff, find someone else.” Lucy sighs, turning back to the tablet that she had been thumbing her way down. “I have actual work to do, Alex.”

“Work I can help you with.” Alex says succinctly. It feels better to just get it out, like swallowing a bitter pill, than making a production out of it. “I think I might have a lead on Cadmus’ hideout.”

That regains Lucy’s attention. The tablet dims with a press of a finger, and is tossed unceremoniously on the console top, as Lucy stalks forward.

“Talk.” she says.

Alex repeats what she had told Maggie, about the weapons and the positioning software and the potential cache. Lucy questions her more closely than Maggie had, which is understandable from her point of view, but only makes Alex impatient. Now that she’s committed to this plan, she wants to  _ move _ , to get out there and set it in motion already, instead of sitting here trying to take Lucy through the minutiae of the technology, of all things.

“You co-opted DEO satellites?” Lucy interrupts, midway through the explanation. “What the fuck, Danvers?”

“ _ That’s _ what you got out of all that?” Alex asks, outraged, but Lucy just rolls her eyes.

“Agent Schott!” she barks, opening the door of the control room, and shouting out into the open workspace outside. 

Alex feels her stomach drop like a lead weight, as the agent that she had been doing her best to ignore the existence of until then, jumps out of his chair and scurries over. She knows that Lucy isn’t being deliberately cruel in picking him out. It probably hadn’t occurred to her that this Winn Schott had once been Kara’s best friend at Catco, someone who had been recommended for Lucy to hire by James Olsen himself. Lucy doesn’t see him the way Alex does, as yet another reminder of everything she had lost, of all the unresolved connections that Kara had left behind.

“Take a look at this program.” Lucy requests, handing the flash drive that Alex had submitted her over to him.

After a hesitant look at Alex, Winn takes the device back to his desk. They watch him slot it in, and scroll down the program for a few minutes before he hotfoots it back to them.

“I’ll need more time to sort through the code for a thorough analysis.” he says, in response to Lucy’s request for clarification. “But, the basic program is definitely a positioning system piggybacking onto our satellites.”

His tone wavers as Lucy practically shoots flames from her eyes, but it is the director herself who looks properly chagrined, when she turns her attention back to Alex.

“Fine, I don’t know how you managed it, but it looks like you were telling the truth.” she snaps at Alex. “Stop looking so smug.”

“I’d still have to look through our archived logs for a more thorough one-to-one match of the location results.” Winn interrupts timidly, paling as Alex turns to glare at him. 

“They’ll match.” she says.

“We still have to do the due diligence on our end, Danvers.” Lucy says, waving a very relieved-looking Winn out of the room.

“While you’re wasting your time checking something that I  _ know  _ is right, Cadmus could already be on the move, if they’ve found out that their location is compromised.” Alex argues.

“Even if your program is functional, we have nothing concrete.” Lucy says. “All we have is one suspected location.”

“Which is better than anything you’ve got so far.” Alex retorts.

“But, why now?” Lucy asks, turning on her abruptly. “What made you decide to co-operate all of a sudden, when you’ve been MIA for more than a year?”

“I’m not doing this for you, if that’s what you’re afraid of.” Alex says.

Lucy glares at her, and Alex glares right back, although she knows it’s unfair, knows that Lucy had wanted none of this, or even had any power in how it had unfolded. It feels disloyal to J’onn to let go of the anger, though.

“I’m doing this for Maggie.” she emphasizes. “I promised I’d help her find the kidnapped aliens, and as long as she’s working with you, I guess I am too.”

Only after Lucy’s eyebrows lift does Alex realize how what she had said might be construed. She doesn’t take back the words, though, as that would only make it even more suspicious. 

“I just-” Lucy begins, before cutting off whatever she had been about to say with a sigh. “Nevermind. If what you say is right, we have to at least check it out.”

“So?” Alex asks.

“So what?”

“Am I in?”

The black uniform is thrown at her so fast, that Alex almost bats it away out of instinct.

“Suit up.” Lucy snaps, when Alex finally catches it and shakes it out. “We’re flushing Cadmus out.”

\---

 

**Maggie**

M’gann is still seated at the terminal she had been waiting at the previous night, when Maggie rushes over in search of her. 

“You stayed.” Maggie says, hurrying up to the figure curled up in the empty seat, as the daily operations of the DEO whirls all around them. No one spares them a second glance but, judging by how busy the rest of the area is, Maggie thinks it isn’t coincidence that the workstation that M’gann had chosen would be the one still remaining vacant. She makes a mental note to thank Vasquez later for that.

“Of course.” M’gann says in response, only looking up briefly from the game that she’s playing on her phone, to shoot Maggie a smile.

Something warm unfurls inside Maggie at the words, and she’s content to just watch M’gann play the game for a few minutes.

“You’re way too into that.” she remarks after a while, looking at the three digit number of the level that M’gann is supposedly on at the moment. 

This comment causes M’gann to do one final swipe of the candy pieces on her screen, before putting away the phone to face Maggie. 

“So, what is it?” she asks.

“I’m going to be sticking around here for a while longer.” Maggie admits. “Actually, a lot longer, probably.”

M’gann simply nods, as if she’d expected no different.

“Darla and Astra can hold the fort at the bar.” she says. “I’ll wait.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I do.” M’gann says, as she gives Maggie’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Pretty sure that’s how the friend thing works, Maggie.”

She faces the direction that Maggie had run in from, the direction of Alex’s holding cell, before turning back to give Maggie a look that’s soft and understanding and makes her  _ really _ self-conscious, because that’s not something she feels up to discussing right now, on top of everything else. 

Thankfully, M’gann doesn’t pursue the matter. She simply shifts in her seat, giving Maggie just enough to room to perch on the handrest and swing a leg inward, before turning back to her game. 

“I’m not sure what’s going to happen.” Maggie says, pitching her voice low. It feels easier to confide like this, with M’gann’s attention ostensibly on her phone. “Everything depends on whether Alex decides to cooperate with Lucy or not.”

“You’ll have to get somewhere eventually.” M’gann points, sounding  _ too _ reasonable.

“But where?” Maggie asks. Despite her earlier bravado in front of Alex, she can’t help but be frustrated at how much of the future of  _ her  _ investigation resides in the control of an organization that she hadn’t even known existed.

“I can read minds, Maggie, not foresee the future.” M’gann replies dryly. “But, I think it will work out.”

Platitudes again. Maggie just nods.

“I mean, you got us this far.” M’gann continues, turning back now, and facing Maggie with a frown, as if she had indeed read her disbelief. “You keep trying, and you tend to find your way out, Maggie.”

Maggie has to blink, because that cannot be  _ envy  _ in the Martian’s tone.

“I’ve had a lot of people helping me.” she protests. “Captain Rivera, Alex,  _ you. _ ”

M’gann shakes her head exasperatedly.

“I’m just saying, lots of people could take a page out of your book.” she says, and looks thoughtful again. 

Before Maggie can piece apart that puzzling remark, a voice from behind interrupts them. 

“Maggie!”

Maggie turns to see Alex walking towards her, tailed by Lucy and an array of DEO agents.

“I’m going to-” Alex is saying, as she nears them, but stops when she takes in Maggie’s openmouthed look of surprise. “What?”

“You look...” Maggie trails off, taking in the obviously DEO-issued black polo that Alex is now wearing, along with similar pants, and a swagger in her stride to match them.

“What?” Alex repeats, looking self-conscious all of a sudden.

“Nothing.” Maggie says, shaking her head.

Which is the worst possible thing to say, because now half-a dozen DEO agents are looking curiously in her direction, but there’s really no way Maggie can just publicly describe how Alex seems at home in the polo, her arms folded in a way that looks both alert and effortlessly casual, as if born from years of practice.

“I’ve decided to co-operate.” Alex gets out in a rush.

That part is already obvious, of course, but Maggie’s relief at the verbal confirmation is mitigated by her impossible-to-articulate feeling of disquiet at seeing Alex so at home in this foreign environment. 

“With the DEO, I mean.” Alex elaborates, as if worried that Maggie’s silence is due to her not understanding. “I’m helping them check the place out that I was telling you about earlier.”

“The warehouse where all the weapons were going to.” Maggie states. 

Alex nods.

“We’re going to be putting together three recon teams, and scope the place out before we launch a proper assault.”

“We?” Maggie latches onto that word. The inflection of it is telling, and it’s only underscored by the obviously deferential attitude that the DEO agents behind Alex are displaying to her, apart from Lucy. 

“These guys have done it in their sleep.” Alex says, in a tone she presumably means to be reassuring. “We go in, we scope the place out, we pull out at the first sign of danger.”

“I can assign you to Vasquez’ ground control team, Maggie.” Lucy offers, seemingly arriving at Maggie’s real question faster than Alex. “You’ll be in on it the whole way through.”

Alex merely looks confused, when Maggie shakes her head in Lucy’s direction.

“Can I talk to you alone for a second?” Maggie asks Alex quietly. Simply making the request is incredibly uncomfortable, with not only Lucy’s discerning eyes watching them, but also the curious eyes of all the other agents present. 

Alex still looks confused.

“I thought you’d be okay with this.” she says slowly. “We can scope out the area beforehand, and if we find anything, you can get in touch with your captain to see if we can pull together a joint arrest.”

“I think you better go with her, Danvers.” Lucy ventures, looking impatient and amused all at once.

Alex rounds on her then, not looking amused at all, but Maggie forestalls whatever her retort had been about to be.

“Lucy is right.” she says, and watches with some satisfaction when Alex’s face snaps back to her, mouth snapping shut. “Now, if you don’t mind, Alex.”

“Now?” Alex echoes. Hesitation enters her voice, as her eyes rove over Maggie’s face.

Maggie simply walks to one of the waiting rooms she had been directed to by Vasquez earlier, knowing that Alex will follow.

\---

 

**Maggie**

“We’re just going to do a regular old recon mission at first.” Alex assures Maggie, as soon as they’re alone, as if  _ that _ had been the root of her worry. “In and out, just to see if there’s anything in my suspicions, before we decide on a plan of attack.”

And?” Maggie prompts.

“And what?”

“Did you think about where I come into all this?” Maggie asks her quietly. “Other than dropping by at the end to make the arrests?”

From the crestfallen look on Alex’s face, she clearly hadn’t.

“I thought you’d want this.” she says. “You wanted them back. The kidnapped aliens.”

“But, I wanted to be part of the operation.” Maggie says frustratedly.

“You haven’t had the proper DEO training. We can’t just take you out on the field, Maggie.”

Again, the ‘we’, as if Alex was effortlessly slipping back into the role of agent. Slipping away from whatever tentative middle ground that they had met on.

The worst part is, Maggie understands. She understands being so laser-focused on a case that all other considerations fall to the wayside. She’s been prone to it herself, in the past. That just makes it even more infuriating to be on the receiving end of it, though.

“I’ve held my own in special ops in both Gotham MCU and the Star City Special Force.” she retorts, eyes narrowed. “You really think the DEO has new tricks to show me?”

“Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

Maggie’s lips purse of her own accord, and she looks down. There’s that panic and frustration rising inside her again. She’s tried to keep it at bay, tried to ignore that she’s had no control in this situation since she’d first gotten into the DEO van, but it comes back full force as Alex throws that question at her, and Maggie finds herself unable to deflect any longer.

“Because I can’t be stuck in here, while you’re out there.” she says.

Alex’s mouth snaps shut, while her eyes go wide.

“Would  _ you _ let me go in there alone?” Maggie asks. Asking the question alone feels like a leap of faith, like stepping out from a ledge, and hoping Alex will catch her. “Not knowing what I might find there?”

“No.” Alex’s voice is low and abashed, but it’s also fervent in its sureness. “I couldn’t live with myself, if I did that.”

“Then why do you think I could?” Maggie asks.

She waits for an answer but Alex looks away, hair flicking to hide her face.

Maggie sighs.

“I’m not going to be left out of my own case, Alex.”

\---

 

**Alex**

“You fucked up bad, huh?” is the first thing Lucy says to her, when Alex storms into the DEO changing room. “I saw Sawyer walking out of that waiting room. She didn’t look too happy.”

She’s not facing Alex as she says that, instead seemingly fixated on the rack of black uniforms in front of her, through which she’s carefully sorting. Alex still wants to snarl at her for the over-familiar tone of the question, but a part of her has always been admiring of Lucy’s panache, at the way she manages to go head-to-head with friends and enemies with the same piss-off attitude.

“She wanted to be on the recon team.” she says, walking over to an adjoining clothing rack, and starting to sort through without a definite idea of what she’s looking for.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she can see Lucy nod, still not looking away from the uniforms. That makes it easier for Alex to continue, as she too continues conversing with her own clothing rack. 

“She couldn’t be part of it, of course. She doesn’t have any of the specific training. She’d be a sitting duck on the field.” she tells it.

“It’s a pretty routine mission, and Vasquez tells me Maggie is a fast learner.” Lucy replies, to the full-sleeve polo that she’s currently looking over.  “Apparently she’s done similar ops in her time with the Major Crimes Unit at Gotham PD, and she’s picking up on the training fast.”

Alex shakes her head. The boys had been a responsibility, and she had taken them under their wing because there was clearly no one else watching out for them. Maggie, though...Maggie and her mother are the last people left that she cares about, and her mother is already in a hospital bed. To be the one who drags Maggie into the violence that Alex had once faced regularly, the same violence that had endangered every other person that Alex had cared about... her very heart repels at it.

“I’m not putting her in that situation.” she repeats firmly, to the black pants that she had just pulled out.

“I don’t think that’s your call, Danvers.” Lucy says, giving up the pretence and looking over. “Maggie looks like she’s used to making her own decisions.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you.” Alex snaps.

“No.” Lucy snaps right back, “You need to be having it with Maggie.”

“Why do you even care?” Alex asks, genuinely confused about that point.

Lucy shrugs, still looking irritated, and turns back to the shirt she had picked out.

“Maybe I want one thing to go right in your life.” she remarks, as she lays out the shirt on an ironing board, and checks out each groove where a weapon would be slotted. “Seeing as - like you won’t stop reminding me - my family is responsible for ruining the rest of it.”

Alex doesn’t want to relent on her anger - it is too deep, and still too raw - but something in her gives at the fragility beneath the shallow snappiness of Lucy’s tone. Maybe it’s the memory of the deep-seated guilt that had been in Lucy’s eyes, when she had silently opened the door beyond which Kara’s lifeless body had lain, and gestured Alex inside, knowing full well that she could have been court-martialled if her father found out.

“I’m sorry.” Alex mutters. “I shouldn’t be taking this out on you.”

“I was there too.” Lucy says matter-of-factly, like she’s not willing to take the absolution, even if Alex were to offer it.  “I didn’t do much to stop my father, in the end.”

“Neither did I.” Alex admits. Kara will always be her greatest regret, but she should have done more for J’onn too, afterward. She should have fought harder. She should have saved them both.

Instead, she’s got could’ves and should’ves littering a river of regrets, with dead bodies floating up to haunt her in her dreams.

“I tried to stop them from taking J’onn.” Lucy says quietly.

Alex looks up, the gesture whip-fast. 

“James came to me.” Lucy reveals. “He told me about your sister, about Supergirl. I finally understood... _ everything, _ Alex. It felt right to save J’onn, after everything he’d done for her. After all, your sister saved my life. It was the least I could do to repay her.”

“But J’onn was taken away.” Alex says in confusion. “Your father ... they  _ took him away _ .”

Lucy shakes her head.

“They did.” she says lowly. “But we went out on our own, James and I, and tried to intercept the transport van.”

She shakes her head despairingly afterward, and falls silent.  

“You should have tried harder.” Alex grits out, stung even further by this knowledge that there had been a chance for rescue, and it had failed.

“We were two people against an armored truck guarded by soldiers.” Lucy protests. “We were lucky to get away with James bleeding, and me grazed by a bullet.”

She touches a spot on her shoulder, as if unconsciously, before continuing.

“It’s not like we had a superhuman on our side, to help us.”

“You never said anything.” Alex says.

“You were in confinement.” Lucy says, shaking her head. “My father was recording every conversation with you. And I didn’t know how you’d take it, afterwards. You’re not exactly easy to read, Danvers.”

And it’s just...Alex can’t even find it in herself to be angry, because on top of everything else that had gone wrong in the situation, this one barely registers. 

“Sometimes, I think that maybe I should have told you, broken you out of confinement.” Lucy admits. “With you joining us, maybe we could’ve had a fighting chance.”

“Dunno.” Alex shrugs. “I’m no Supergirl.”

She can see Lucy’s shoulders lift and roll, too, from her peripheral vision.

“No, but you bring other things to the team.” Lucy says. “It was just a thought, Alex.”

Alex sighs and comes to a decision, hands latching onto a full-sleeve polo. 

“That’s one of my spares.” Lucy says, glancing over as she pulls it out. “I’m pretty sure it’s two sizes too small for you, Danvers, unless you’ve shrunk in the past two years.”

There’s a knowing smirk on her lips, though, like she knows she’s won before Alex even says anything, which is why Alex flips her the bird in response. 

“It’s not for me, asshole.” she says, floating the words over her shoulder as she walks out of the room. “But, I think you already knew that.”

\---

 

**Maggie**

Maggie is in one of the changing rooms that Vasquez had directed her to, putting on the spare DEO-issue pants the agent had lent her, when Alex walks in.

Alex freezes mid-stride upon finding her in that state of undress, but Maggie merely continues pulling up the pants, full aware that she has nothing else on except her undergarments, and a thin tank top. Alex immediately blushes a deep red, and turns to stare at the wall, before mumbling something incoherent.

Despite all the frustration from their previous not-quite-argument, Maggie finds herself smiling at the fact that she can evoke such a reaction. It’s diametrically opposed to what she’s used to, but it still fills her up with a kind of exhilaration, to know that she can provoke it in a woman like Alex.

“What did you say?” she asks, restraining herself to make her tone only a little teasing. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I have something for you.” Alex says more distinctly, edging closer and holding a black garment out, similar in pigment to the pants. 

Maggie takes the full-sleeve polo offered, which doesn’t look much different from the henleys that she favors at work.

“It’s just a formality for the mission.” Alex says awkwardly, as Maggie shakes it out. “I thought you might prefer them to the regulation short-sleeve ones.”

“So I’m in?” Maggie asks, holding the shirt against her body for size.

“I talked to Lucy.” Alex says, nodding, and then huffs out a half-frustrated laugh. “From what I hear, you were already working on her.”

Maggie shrugs.

“I told you.” she says. “You aren’t getting in that mission van without me.”

“I just didn’t want you to get hurt.” Alex says, “I’m sorry, Maggie. I wasn’t - I shouldn’t have tried to go over your head like that.”

“I don’t well with people making decisions for me.” Maggie says.  _ Or with leaving me behind. _

She watches Alex nod wretchedly.

“I would say that I’m sorry again.” Alex mumbles. “But, I think you’re sick of hearing that from me by now.”

Watching her hunched form, Maggie feels compelled to get out what has been running through her head the whole afternoon. Feels almost warranted to get it out, really, after everything Alex had divulged to her.

“That morning at the bar.” she starts. “There’s a reason I was calling my aunt to check in, instead of my parents.”

Alex looks somber again, but also unsurprised. Maggie wonders if she’s that transparent. She fears that, when it comes to Alex, she is.

“Am I about to find out what the reason was?” Alex prompts.

Maggie turns away as she nods

“My parents... didn’t take the gay thing too well.” she says, trying to keep the words as light as possible, while getting her meaning across, because this already feels like she’s trying to walk on water. “I mean, really  _ really _ not well.”

“How not well?” Alex asks, in the softest voice that Maggie has heard her use.

“Like throw-me-out-so-I-had-to-stay-with-an-aunt-for-a-few-years kind of not well.” Maggie says woodenly, because that’s the only way she can get the words out.

She meets Alex’s gaze again, fully prepared to regret divulging this part of herself, if she sees the slightest bit of sympathy or - god forbid -  _ pity _ in Alex’s eyes, but it is sheer fury that meets her gaze.

“Fuck them.” Alex spits out, before her eyes widen. “I mean...fuck, sorry, Maggie. I just meant-”

“It’s fine.” Maggie hastens to reassure her, although by how equally angry and chastised Alex still looks, she’s knows it  _ isn’t _ fine, it will never really be. 

“You didn’t deserve that.” Alex amends, which is something that Emily had said too, and Kate, the only other two people that Maggie had ever revealed this part of her past to.  It’s trite, and it’s never easy to believe, especially now, with the knowledge that both those relationships had fizzled out.

She prefers the “fuck them”. It feels good, hearing that come out of someone else’s mouth, validating a feeling that Maggie had only let herself feel late at night, when the exhaustion and rage had been raw enough to not let guilt filter her thoughts.

“I just thought I should let you know.” she says.

Alex watches her, a complex mix of emotions flitting over her face, and strangely, Maggie doesn’t regret her confidence one bit. 

“You didn’t have to.” Alex says, her eyebrows still inclined downwards. Her voice is still soft, leaving Maggie aching, because she’s pretty sure that Alex has enough of her own stuff to deal with.

So, she just shrugs and nods, before turning back to the shirt. She throws it on over her tank - it fits more snugly than she’s used to - and shucks the pants up to tuck it in, amusedly aware of Alex turning away again, cheeks heated.

“Ready to go?” Alex asks, sounding somewhat breathy, when Maggie is finished.

“Just a second.” Maggie says. She fishes her badge out of her NCPD jacket pocket, and clips it onto her jeans, before turning to face Alex.

“What do you think?” she asks, more eager to hear the answer than she had thought she would be.

Alex steps back and surveys her mock-critically, before a teasing smile lifts her lips.

“I think blue is definitely your color.” she says, before swatting away the balled-up jacket that Maggie throws at her in retaliation.

Alex sobers up as soon as she throws the jacket back, and steps closer to Maggie, the fury not completely abated from her expression.

“That wasn’t right.” she mumbles, closing her arms around Maggie. “What they did.”

“It’s already done.” Maggie replies, equally quietly. She closes her eyes, and lets her brain shut down for once, just enjoying Alex’s proximity.

Alex doesn’t let her go, as she continues, her tone edging between droll and perfectly serious.

“Want me to put out a hit on them? I’ve got contacts, now.”

“I went to toe-to-toe against the Gotham mafia.” Maggie says, snorting into the curve of Alex’s shoulder. “You’ve got nothing on  _ my _ contacts, Danvers.”

That’s when Alex lets go, steps back, and surveys her. There’s wonder and admiration in her eyes, not pity.

“You just keep throwing me for a loop every time.” she says, sounding positively delighted by it. “The Gotham mafia? You’ve got to tell me  _ that _ story sometime.”

“Fine.” Maggie submits, unable to keep smiling back. “October is around the corner, after all, and that’s a good story for a cold and spooky night.”

She’s starting to suspect that they’ve been standing there grinning like idiots at each other for slightly too long, when they’re interrupted by a nervous head poking in through the door of the changing room. It’s one of the agents - Fanshawe, Alex had called him, marking him out to Maggie as a newbie - looking at them nervously.

“The director wants you in the control room to finalize the plan, Ag - Ma’am.” he says to Alex. “Right away, she said.”

He pops right back out after getting the words out, looking immensely relieved, while Alex turns back to Maggie hesitantly.

“ _ Go _ .” Maggie says. “Before Lucy comes after you herself, for being late.”

“Please.” Alex says, and this time her smile is wide, and even a little cocky. “I’d win in a head-to-head against her any day.”

“I’ve no doubt you would.” Maggie assures her drily, and Alex  _ beams _ , before turning to follow Fanshawe’s disappeared figure.

Maggie watches her leave, aware of her face stretching in its own wide smile, and of her heart soaring, and of feeling like she could walk on water and run through fire.

\---

 

**Alex**

With the recon mission planned for the dead of night, the three teams assemble in the evening for one final runthrough of the plan. As they wait for the other agents to arrive, Alex seeks out Maggie, who is standing by the side of the milling congregation, looking both alert and calm at once.

“Ready to go?” she asks Maggie, unable to keep the chord of excitement out of her voice. 

Striking out on her own had been invigorating in its own way, but heading out on an unpredictable mission with a well-oiled team at her side brings its own exhilaration, one that only seems to be heightened by Maggie joining her. Even if Maggie has been assigned to Lucy’s recon team, rather than the one Alex is joining, it still feels right that they do this together. Alex is surprised to find that she isn’t actually as anxious about it as she had thought she would be.

Maggie nods in reply to her question. 

“I gotta say, I’m impressed.” she comments. “You guys got all this together in less than 24 hours. I’d still be filling out the requisition forms, back at the station.”

Alex feels inordinately smug over the comment, although she shouldn’t, seeing as she isn’t even officially a part of this organization anymore.

“Well, these Cadmus guys seem like they’ve got their ears pretty close to the ground.” she replies. “Lucy was afraid they might get skittish and fly, if they find out we’re on their trail.”

She looks over at Agent Fanshawe, the one whose team she’s going to be joining, as she says this, and feels her eyebrows lift, when she sees Maggie’s friend talking to him.

“M’gann talked Lucy into it.” Maggie says, sounding resigned, when Alex turns back to her. “They had it arranged that she was coming along, before I even knew about it.”

“I wonder how she convinced her.” Alex murmurs. She can understand why Lucy would agree to take someone as experienced as Maggie on, but why a bartender with no apparent combat experience?

“I guess M’gann has some tricks up her sleeve that Lucy found useful.” Maggie replies, averting her eyes, when Alex leans in close out of curiosity.

“She’s a pretty good friend.” Alex comments, wondering if Maggie knows what a dead giveaway that avoidance of eye contact is. Weird thing is, Alex thinks she probably does. “To stick around like this.”

“She’s great, yeah.” Maggie says, a slight but fond smile tugging up her lip. “I think she also feels responsible for the aliens kidnapped, though. A lot of them were regulars at her bar. I think she blames herself for not putting an end to Roulette’s operation sooner.”

Alex studies Maggie’s face, wondering if she’s truly voicing M’gann’s regrets there, or filtering some of her own through. Maggie can be hard to read sometimes, but Alex finds she likes the challenge of it. It’s as exciting as any scientific puzzle she had stumbled across in her work, the challenge of it making it all the more rewarding when she figures the answer out. Except, the high is even better, because it’s Maggie, and every new thing Alex pieces together about the woman feels like another step forward in getting closer to her.

“I have something for you.” Maggie says now, looking adorably uncertain with her lower lip caught between her teeth. “Before we go on the mission.”

She gestures Alex in a nearby unlocked room, out of the site of the rest of the agents, before pressing something into her hand. Alex feels the metallic cool of whatever it is settle against her skin, contrasting with the warmth of Maggie’s hand pressing into her own. When Maggie pulls away, resting on Alex’s palm is a simple bottle opener, looking a little tarnished with age.

“My aunt gave this to me when I graduated from the academy.” Maggie says, looking somewhat embarrassed. “It was a little joke of hers; she won it at a fair back home, right before she flew in for my graduation, so she gave it to me for luck.”

“And you’re giving it to me?” Alex asks softly.

“I’m lending it to you.” Maggie corrects her. “Make sure you bring it back to me, Danvers.”

Alex’s hands close back around the offering, the sharp metal digging into her palm with how tightly she holds it.

“I will.” she says. Finally, she has something worth coming back to, something that doesn’t quite fill the hole that Kara and J’onn left behind, but rests next to their place in her heart, warm and glowing.

Maggie is staring at her again.

“What?” Alex asks, following the gaze down her own torso.

“It’s your uniform.” Maggie says, waving a hand down Alex’s shirt. “It just... fits you.”

Alex can feel her face warming up, another inconvenient thing that Maggie seems to bring out of her ridiculously easily. Still, the way Maggie is looking at her, half-grave and half-shy, emboldens her to do what she had planned.

“I have something for you, too.” she says. She’s too wired up to worry about looking corny, wired up like when she had presented her graduate thesis, or like when she had faced off against an alien hostile or the first time. Excitement and fear mixing together, and spiking up her heartbeat in a dangerously addictive way.

As Maggie waits patiently, Alex puts away the opener into one of the internal pockets in her uniform, carefully sliding the zipper closed before she reaches her hands out. When her hands comes around to frame Maggie’s face, the other woman doesn’t step away, which Alex takes as another small encouragement. The blood seems to drown out all other noise in her ears, as she leans down and presses her lips against Maggie’s, hearing a sharp intake of breath when they make contact.

God, just that simple touch of lips is better than every awkward fumble she’d suffered through in high school, better than every drunken bar encounter from college. Alex’s instincts urge her to grip tighter, make the kiss more insistent, but she keeps it soft, a fleeting brush of her lips against Maggie’s.

She feels Maggie’s body go pliant against her, but no further response is forthcoming. The soft lips aligned against Alex’s don’t move, and Alex doesn’t dare press more insistently, praying silently instead that Maggie would give some sign,  _ any _ sign, that she wants this too, that Alex isn’t alone in this. No sign comes, and when Alex does draw back, disappointed, Maggie simply draws in another sharp breath. 

Alex studies Maggie’s face after she pulls back. It looks wistful, rather than angry or repelled.

“I get it.” Alex says, working around the clot of disappointment sitting heavy in her throat, before Maggie can do the whole letting-Alex-down-gently thing again. “About me having to figure out the gay thing and how I fit into it, especially after everything that went down with your parents. I can see why that’s important to you.”

“Alex.” Maggie says, sounding guilt-wracked. “I don’t want to put that kind of expectation of you. I just want to be here for you. In the way you need me.”

“But the way I need you isn’t to be the person that holds my hand through this.” Alex protests. “I know I have things to figure out, but wanting you? That’s not one of those things, Maggie.”

She wishes she could just magically make Maggie realize it, that her liking Maggie is one of those things that are just part of her existence now. Just like Kara would always be her sister, even  if she was long dead. Just like Jeremiah would always be her father, and J’onn would always be the one who had saved her from herself. That the place in her heart that Maggie had opened, the place that Alex had never thought she was entitled to explore, beyond fumblings with Vicki and drunken half-forgotten encounters in college... that place might as well have “Reserved for Maggie Sawyer” written all over it now.

Maggie still looks unsure, and Alex wants to  _ kill _ her parents, her exes, and whoever else had hurt the woman in front of her in such a way that she thinks it unbelievable that Alex could possibly mean what she says.

“I mean it.” she insists. “What I feel for you is right, Maggie, I  _ know _ it is.”

When Maggie hugs her at that, hard and tight, Alex actually suspects that it might be because the other woman is trying to distract her from a reply, still unsure of how to respond. That awareness doesn’t detract from how good the embrace feels, or the near-desperation with which Maggie’s arms cleave to her back.

“Just...wait for me.” Alex mumbles, dipping her head down to lay it against Maggie’s shoulder. She feels Maggie shift, so that her hair falls away, giving Alex more purchase to sink into the crook where neck meets shoulder, while Maggie’s hands tighten around her back. Is she just being wistful, just imagining that Maggie is leaning in closer? She refuses to overthink it, as she’s usually prone to.

“Yeah.” Maggie says, when Alex finally lifts her head back up. Her eyes are intent now, no longer the passively detached look that she usually pulls on in front of others. Then, they crinkle in amusement, in the cheeky way that always captivates Alex. “I mean, my aunt would kick my ass if I lost that bottle opener. So yeah, I’ll be waiting for you to come back with it.”

The smile turns tremulous by the end of the sentence, but Alex just feels warm and delighted, still on a high from the hug. The sting of disappointment is still there, too, but it’s mitigated by her awareness of the reasons for Maggie’s hesitation, and by her suspicion that what had transpired was not outright  _ rejection,  _ if she’s reading all the other signals right. And to top it all, the way that Maggie is currently looking at her, like she’s forgotten that anyone else in the world exists, is doing  _ wonders _ for Alex’s ego.

It’s like everything else she’s ever loved in her life. Terrifying and soul-searing and exhilarating, all at once.

\---

 

**Maggie**

As night falls, the pieces of the plan that Alex and Lucy had assembled so quickly falls into place, and the three teams converge around the exit, an anticipatory hush falling over them.

Keyed up as she is, Maggie doesn’t feel particularly anxious. There’s competence practically pouring out of each of the black uniforms arrayed around her, a sense of well-oiled machines slotting into their assigned place, that puts her more at ease about ceding control of the mission, than she would otherwise have been. While she waits for the signal to roll out, she can hear Lucy discussing some last minute details with Vasquez, some murmured discussion peppered with a liberal amount of legal jargon. Alex, meanwhile, is leaning close and listening to the instructions of the agent in charge of leading her team. As the hour to move out approaches, all agents face Vasquez and the ground control team, waiting for the final instructions.

“Get in, scout the place out, and get out at the first sign of trouble.” Vasquez surmises the plan succinctly. “Stick to your team, and to the plan.”

Alex finds Maggie’s eyes through all the tactical gear, and locks gazes, as they both nod in tandem with the rest of their teams.

_ Wait for me.  _ All of a sudden, Maggie is overcome by the desire to see Alex outside all of this some day. Away from missions and arrests and missing aliens. In a garden, maybe, or under the stars, a place where responsibility doesn’t press down on them every moment like a suffocating blanket. 

“Ready?” Lucy asks, through the comms, breaking her out of her wistful thoughts.

As one, the three teams nod again.

“Then let’s go.”

\---

 

**Maggie**

Alex had pinpointed the location of the weapons cache to one of the abandoned warehouses at the edge of the city, where civilization meets the desert. Or perhaps it’s the other way around, Maggie can’t help but think, as she sits in the unmarked and untraceable van that they’re driving to the deployment location, along with the seven other agents on Lucy’s team. 

Lucy is up near the front of the van, and Maggie can see her mouthing something to herself. Every now and then, she touches her chest, patting the area where Maggie had seen her shove some papers in earlier. At a guess, putting it together with her last conversation with Vasquez, Maggie thinks it might be some legal paperwork that might get them just enough leverage with the ring leaders if they do get caught, drawn up on the basis of Cadmus’ prior status as a government-run organization. She wonders if Lucy truly believes that such a tactic would work, or if it’s merely a secondary comfort that she indulges in.

As for Maggie herself, she keeps coiling and uncoiling her fingers around the comms set that had been given to her by ground control. She knows the operation of it by heart now; Vasquez had drilled it into her for hours, while Alex had been locked in the control room with Lucy. Still, the newness of it adds further unpredictability to the mission, prompting her to seek tactile reassurance in what little way she can.

The van rolls into a stop underneath a highway passing, a few lights before they pass the city limits, at which point the majority of the team rolls out on foot. The two leftover agents take the van back to ground control, while the rest of the team proceeds on foot towards the location they had scouted out. While the other two teams will be approaching from the ground, they would be taking the underground path to recon, a little research having uncovered that their targeted warehouse had once been a supply hub for a grocery store chain, and had a belowground passage leading from the parking lot to the cellars.

They creep through the night under the cover of darkness and smog. Without a single star visible above, they might as well have custom-ordered the night for the operation. Somehow, Maggie isn’t comforted by this. It all feels too eerily silent at the edge of the city, without bustling lights and the sound of cars.

Lucy snips the lock of the entrance to the underground passageway with one brutal snick of a miniature bolt cutter, and two other agents immediately lift up the metal grate, while two more head below to scout the way down. When the designated call to follow sounds, Maggie follows the rest of the team down, tamping down the part of her that’s used to assuming lead on such missions. 

The first few minutes down the belowground passage are uneventful. They move slowly, stopping at each step to scan the area immediately ahead of them, assisted by input from ground control.

It is roughly ten minutes into their slow way down the passage that Maggie notices something. Or rather, the absence of it. Her comm, that had been whirring with a barely perceptible white noise in her ear, suddenly starts fizzling in and out, before dying out entirely after a few steps forward.

Looking to the front, she can see Lucy silently raise a hand, causing the team to come to a staggered halt. A quick conversation between Lucy and the agent beside her confirms that the same thing has happened to all of their headsets. 

“We can’t be that deep underground.” Maggie murmurs, when they look back.

Lucy shakes her head.

“These were designed to work in way more adverse locales.” she says, tapping the comms. “Something’s messing with our signals.”

Which only gives rise to other questions. Had this been a security measure that had already been in place, or had their mission been anticipated? Were they on the right track, or had they stumbled onto something else altogether?

“What now?” the agent by Maggie’s side interrupts, directing the question to Lucy.

“Let’s retreat a few paces.” Lucy orders.

When they go back far enough, the white noise returns to the comm. Lucy has them move back and forth a few times, establishing the boundary line of the signal scrambler, before calling on Vasquez.

“There seems to be some kind of signal interrupter running around the perimeter of the warehouse, but we can’t pin it down.” Vasquez’ voice fills the comms, as soon as Lucy confirms that they’ve established connection again. “We lost connection with the other two teams as soon as they rappelled into the building.”

The agents stare at each other in the darkness.

“Should we continue, just in case they need backup?” one of them asks.

Lucy’s face looks ashen behind her helmet.

“If they stick to the plan, they should be getting out of there, not engaging.” she says, her steady voice a marked contrast to her expression. “Let’s wait here for now, until connection with them is re-established, or better information comes in. Otherwise, we might just make things worse.”

Maggie bites back the protest bubbling up in her throat, knowing full well that Lucy’s decision is the right course of action. It was what they had planned, after all, in the case of such an eventuality, and the other two teams would be expecting them to carry it out.

Lucy gestures at her team. The unit falls back against the wall as one, save for the two preassigned agents who head out periodically to scout the area a few paces ahead, and come back to report to Lucy. Maggie listens to their hushed report from one ear, keeping the other tuned into the comm set. She can’t help feeling frustrated, though, because the scrambler is a clear indication that they’re onto something here, but it looks like they’ll be running away again, while Cadmus continues doing god knows what to the aliens they’ve kidnapped so far.

\---

 

**Alex**

Alex’s team rappel their way down the warehouse with relative ease, the darkness giving them enough cover to slip in through a back window on the third floor, apparently without attracting notice. 

The entire warehouse is dark, with faded posters peeling off the walls, and not a single security guard patrolling the myriad corridors. Still, Alex can’t shake off an eerie feeling of being tailed, and is glad when Fanshawe - the lead - makes the call for the team to maintain cover, and keep to the shadows.

The precaution is indisputably justified, when their comms jam, whining out of operation almost immediately after Fanshawe checks in with ground control. After a hurried conversation among the group, confirming that all the comms are indeed cut off, he gives the order to turn back. Alex stays silent, bringing up the rear, as the rookie agent nervously directs the team back out the way that they had entered.

She only notices M’gann is missing because she’s busy doing a sweep of the team numbers, as had been her custom when bringing up the rear on any of her previous missions. The responsibility should really have fallen to the team lead, along with backup from ground control, but Fanshawe is new, and clearly out of his element. With their comms being cut off too, Alex slips back into old habits, the cloak of responsibility falling on her as easily as breathing.

She stalls when the headcount comes up one short, and tallies up the agents in front of her again, before realizing that the one missing is Maggie’s mysterious alien friend, the one whose origins she is strangely recalcitrant about.

The corridor they are exiting looks empty, when she looks back and surveys it with trained eyes, until one quick flash of movement catches Alex’s attention from the far end. She lets herself quietly fall back, melting back into the shadows at the edge of the hallway, unnoticed by the rest of her team.

She waits a few moments before sliding back in the direction of the flash. As she nears, still creeping against the shadows, the faint and familiar noise of the breathing tells her that it’s M’gann she’s following.

Before she can ask the strange woman what the hell she’s doing, M’gann speaks first.

“The team is going to be looking for you.” her voice whispers, without even looking back. “Go back, Alex.”

“Not unless you’re coming back with us!” Alex hisses. She remembers how fondly Maggie had spoken of the bartender, and remembers that this woman is only here because of her. “Maggie will be furious with me, if I left you behind.”

M’gann shakes her head, the gesture looking impatient even in silhouette.

“I feel something.” she says, sounding confused. “It’s faint, but I can sense- It can’t be possible, but I can’t leave without seeing for myself.”

“What does that even mean?” Alex demands in a whisper, following the strange woman as she moves down corridor to corridor, seemingly knowing what places to avoid, from the way she trips past certain hallways, pulling Alex out of sight with her, her hold betraying a strength that Alex hadn’t expected to encounter in a bartender, of all people.

“It means that I can’t leave until I’ve found the source of whatever it is that I’m sensing here.” M’gann says, taking another turn down a corridor, which again seems isolated. “I’ve run away for far too long. I can’t do so again.”

“Whatever you mean by that, this is one hell of a time to be growing a spine.” Alex mumbles. She checks both the knives and gun strapped to her legs, before pressing her comm again. Still no response.

“Go back, Alex Danvers.”

“Not a chance.” Alex replies. “You stuck by Maggie. I’m sticking by you.”

M’gann moves down two more hallways with confidence, before her stride begins to falter on the third. After the fifth turn, she stops altogether. In the near darkness, Alex can see her head turning this way and that.

“What now?” Alex growls.

“The connection... it’s faltering.” There’s a frown on M’gann’s face as she admits this, illuminated by moonlight from a window at the far end of the hallway. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

Alex gapes at her, fury and confusion warring chief among her emotions. Before she can say anything, M’gann’s head snaps up, and she looks around them in alarm. That, and the muted sound of a door sliding open, is all the warning Alex has, before she whirls around and fires a warning shot in the direction of the noise.

Two figures neatly evade the path of the bullets, and head straight for them.  One of the men is unfamiliar to Alex. White, blond, and shirtless, he would laughably resemble a romance novel cover model, except for the green rock that seems to be embedded in the middle of his chest, the mere sight of which spits out sickening associations. Associations like weakness, and pain, and  _ sister sister sister death _ .

The other man, though, is what really throws Alex for a loop, and has her hand fumbling on the trigger.

“J’onn?” she gasps out, but it’s wrong, the expression on his face is all wrong. J’onn had never looked at her like that, not even when Alex had seriously messed up a mission.

The man who looks exactly like her dead mentor doesn’t even pause in his stride towards her, although his face twists into something furious when she says his name. Alex, on the other hand, stalls. Every instinct that had been trained into her by that very same face fails her, leaving her wide open for an attack.

His fist makes contact with her stomach long before Alex becomes capable of pulling that trigger. Even braced for the impact of a superhuman punch, she loses her footing and staggers back. Any hope for intervention from her odd companion is lost when she hears the strangled groan from beside her, as the man who had been with J’onn attacks M’gann.

Alex spits out blood, feeling old bruises tear, and new bruises forming that she knows will hurt like a bitch in more days to come. What really pierces through, though, is the sheer coldness in J’onn’s eye when he gazes at her, the other covered by some strange metallic half-mask.

That, more than anything, spurs Alex to go on on the attack herself. She strikes out with a knife palmed from one of the array slotted into her uniform, and hears the satisfying hiss from her opponent as it slices through skin, before he lands another punch on her, this time against her face, that makes her bones rattle.

“That’s enough.” An annoyed voice says, as Alex rears back, teeth bared, and goes in for a retaliatory strike. “You were warned not to hurt any of the humans, Henshaw.”

It seems to be a night for reconnecting with ghosts from her past. When J’onn - who isn’t really J’onn, it seems, but Hank Henshaw - stops his attack, grabs her bodily, and swings her around to the speaker, Alex finds herself facing yet another person that she had never thought she would see again.

“Hello, Alex.” Maxwell Lord says, flashing that smile of his that so many women must have found disarmingly charming. “Nice to see you again.”

Fear, shock, and anger run through her system all at once. At the end of it, however, all Alex can think is:   _ I’m sorry, Maggie. I guess I won’t be returning that bottle opener, after all. _

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it. I'm trying to get a sliiightly faster update schedule going, because I want this story wrapped up by the end of the year, and am pushing aside a lot of other fandom commitments to meet that deadline, but :) we'll :) see :) on account me being me :)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, y'all! I hope you're taking care of yourselves!!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Alex**

When Alex regains consciousness, she’s on the ground, and Maxwell Lord is looking down at her. She kicks out at his feet by instinct, and then grits her teeth when pain shoots through her body at the gesture. It is then that the ropes binding her form register, as well as the prone body of M’gann next to her.

 _Great_ , Alex thinks, looking around at the featureless cell that they’re in, _from one prison to another_. Ahead of Max, she can see two guards outside, armed and alert. _Fuck._

“I didn’t want to do this to you, Alex.” Max says, gazing down at her with an expression that he probably thinks is solicitous, but which more closely resembles someone suffering from mild indigestion.

“Go fuck yourself.” Alex snaps at him. “I should have known you had something to do with this.”

It’s half-insult and half-opening gambit, buying herself enough time to get a longer look at the cell that she’s in. When Alex next looks to her side, M’gann is shifting against her binds and blinking, her slack face giving away that she has only just regained consciousness too.

“Stunner.” Max says, when Alex looks back at him accusingly. His smile is smug, like he expects her to be impressed, when he holds the culprit weapon up. “And for the record, _you_ broke into our building. This was practically self-defense.”

 _Our_ _building._ Alex commits the incriminating structure of that remark to memory, even as she barks out a skeptical laugh.

“That’s rich.” she says. “What about all aliens you’re kidnapping? Is that self-defense, too? Did one of them breathe too hard in your direction one time, Max?”

Two years ago, she wouldn’t have cared. Hell, she might’ve even sympathized with him.

Two years ago, Kara and J’onn were still alive.

“I’m just helping the people trying to protect our country.” Max says. “Are we going to have this same argument over and over again?”

“I know you sold Lane that kryptonite.” Alex hisses. “That night he shot Supergirl down. Lace my sister up with red, and then sell the general the green to take her down. That’s not protecting _anyone_ , Max. That’s just a normal day’s business for you.”

“I developed the red kryptonite to protect us from the Fort Rozz escapees.” Max protests. “I never intended for your sister to get caught up in that.”

“Fuck your intentions.” Alex snarls, before getting a hold of herself.

She goes silent, evaluating her options. Insulting Max to goad him into talking is one thing, but she can’t risk antagonizing him too far, if she wants to get out of here alive with any information that she can wheedle out of him.

“Wasn’t Bizarro bad enough?” she asks, finally. “I’d have thought that would put anyone off playing god.”

Max just shakes his head.

“You’ve seen Metallo and Henshaw in action.” he reminds her. “Can you really say that we might not need more weapons like that, at a point in the future? It wouldn’t have been possible to augment them, without Cadmus’ years of research into alien physiologies.”

Alex had wanted to be a doctor, long before she had ever dreamed of working for the DEO or fighting alien hostiles, and something in the very nature of her revolts at Max’s callous remarks. He’s giving her good information, the kind that can be brought up at a court martial if she ever makes it out of here, and all she can think about is that Kara could have been one of those aliens whose “physiologies” would have been “researched”, if Max had his way.

“If you’re done revealing confidential information to our prisoners, Max,” a new voice intrudes on their conversation, “I’ve got an actual interrogation to proceed with.”

Despite his initial start at the voice, Max gives a careless toss of his head, before stepping side and bringing the interloper into Alex’s line of view. The first thing that catches Alex’s notice is that she’s tall, so tall that Alex has to tilt her head up almost vertically to stay focused on her face, when the woman nears. The second thing of note is that she looks familiar, in a way that’s setting off alarm bells in Alex’s head, although she can’t place where she’d know this woman from.

As Max exits the room, Alex rears her head up, ready to go for round two with this new foe, only to find herself ignored completely, as the woman kneels down to face M’gann instead.

“So, you’re the one that slipped through Veronica’s clutches.”

Alex sneaks a look at M’gann to see how she’s processing those words. Her fellow captive’s face, though ashy, has on a bland expression.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” M’gann says, in an equally colorless voice.

Their captor smiles.

“Don’t you?” she asks. “Well, let’s see if my daughter does.”

With that odd remark, she pulls a device out of her coat pocket. Again, something about it taps away at Alex’s memory, and she feels a faint sense of unease when M’gann’s resistant hands are pulled forward, and a reluctant thumb is pressed over the glass pad on top of the device.

It beeps red upon contact, and the woman smiles.

“I’d say I was right.” she says, her expression turning predatory. “I’ve been after Veronica to send me one of your kind for a long time. I wonder how you escaped her.”

Suddenly, Alex recognizes the stranger. She’s never been in the habit of paying much attention to politics. As a DEO agent, it had been much easier to do her job when she didn’t let outside factors cloud her decisions. Unless the matter had directly concerned Kara, Alex had simply not given it notice. The woman in front of her, though, has been given enough coverage in the media, that even Alex remembers glimpses of her standing sedately behind Lex Luthor, during his vitriolic speeches.

“You’re Lillian Luthor.” she says. “So Roulette _was_ playing a long game.”

When Lillian Luthor’s expression turns dangerous, Alex realizes she might have been better off keeping such suspicions to herself. She doesn’t regret it too much, though, because at least it seems to take Lillian’s scrutiny off M’gann, who looks downright terrified after the mention of Veronica Sinclair.

“Well, the DEO were the ones that cut off our original supply.” Lillian says. “We had to get our test subjects from somewhere.”

“DEO?” Alex plays dumb, more out of stubbornness than because she thinks the subterfuge will do them any good.

“Oh please, Ms. Danvers. I don’t need to ask who you are” Lillian says.

By reflex, Alex goes cold. This woman recognizes her, which means Max must have told her about the DEO, about Kara, about _everything._ And then, Alex remembers that none of that matters anymore. Kara is dead. _J’onn_ is dead. Powerful though she undoubtedly is, what can this woman do to Alex, that can be worse than that?

“How did you find us?” Lillian Luthor asks.

Alex feels her face curl into a grin.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she taunts, because the old rage has returned, replacing any fear that Lillian had hoped to instill in her.

“I have ways to make you tell.” Lillian informs her. “Do you know what this organization is capable of?”

Does Lillian know that Alex had killed a Hellgrammite with his own spike? That she had pulled a bleeding sword out of the heart of a dead Kryptonian, and felt only relief that she had been able to save J’onn in time?

“Do your worst.” Alex growls.

Lillian seems to sense a lost cause when she sees it, and turns back to M’gann.

“Why are you here?” she asks M’gann. “You must have made every effort to avoid Veronica’s clutches in the past. And yet, here you are, walking right in. With the DEO, no less.”

M’gann remains stubbornly silent. The expression on her face is one of intense concentration, that soon gives way to astonishment.

Lillian smiles at the look of surprise.

“That won’t work.” she says enigmatically, before nodding at the metal shackles around M’gann’s arms. Different from the cursory handcuffs around Alex, hers are bulkier and made of clearly hardier metal, which leads Alex to think that something must be encased inside.

“Those are short-circuiting your powers.” Lillian continues, confirming Alex’s suspicions.

M’gann swallows then, but still remains defiantly silent. When her silence drags on, Lillian shakes her head, and rises up partway.

“Metallo.” she calls out, looking bored. “Henshaw.”

The beckoned men enter the room. Alex draws in a fortifying breath at the sight of Hank Henshaw, the _real_ Hank Henshaw, but it is Metallo who steps forward at Lillian’s gesture.

“Knock some sense into her.” Lillian says, nodding at M’gann.

Metallo starts on M’gann without preamble, who takes his punches more stalwartly than Alex would have expected her to. Other than a little grunt every time a blow lands, she remains stubbornly silent, face downcast. The downcast expression, like she thinks she _deserves_ this, infuriates Alex, and the anger is only exacerbated by the fact that Metallo keeps landing hits on her regardless, clearly unheeding of the fact that his opponent is incapable of fighting back.

Alex gauges the rhythm of his fists, and waits for the perfect opening. When it comes, just as his clenched fist heads for M’gann again, Alex rears forward, sinks her teeth into his arm, and pulls back. The momentum of it pitches him forward, making his head bash into the wall above Alex.

Howling, Metallo reaches for her, and Alex tenses, more than ready to take the blow and retaliate best as she can. However, a glance passes between Lillian and Henshaw, before the latter pulls Metallo back.

“Well done, Agent Danvers.” Lillian looks mildly impressed. “Brains _and_ brawns. The DEO chooses its recruits well.”

“Is this your recruitment spiel, then?” Alex asks. She smiles, because - even in the midst of her anger - it’s funny that this woman thinks Alex would find her praise noteworthy. “Does that qualify me to be a part of your sick experiments, too, now?”

For the first time, Lillian’s attention is directed completely at Alex. She rocks back on the balls of her feet, and eyes Alex speculatively.

“Well no.  Not _you_. You are... leverage.”

\---

 

**Maggie**

Maggie breathes out a long-held sigh of relief, when the first of the other two recon teams report in to Lucy through the comms. It’s the one led by Agent Tsang, but that doesn’t worry Maggie. Surely, Fanshawe’s team - the one that Alex and M’gann had been on - wouldn’t be far behind, if Tsang’s had already reached safety.

That surety slowly turns to worry, when the minutes pass and Fanshawe still fails to report in. Every periodic ping of the comm, which turns out to just be Vasquez checking in from ground control or Tsang checking in for further instructions, has Maggie tensing and subsequently deflating.

“We need to get out there and look for them.” she says, after the fifth such false hope.

“No.” Lucy says, tight-lipped. “We follow the plan. We’re not going to help anyone by going in there blind.”

“We’re already sitting blind.” Maggie replies mildly, because they might as well be sitting ducks, waiting here underground for further information to come in.

“Director, ma’am.” Vasquez’s voice interrupts over the comms. “A new communication has come in. It’s an unfamiliar source, but I’ve overriden our security protocols to pass it through for now, because I think you and the team are going to want to hear it.”

Without argument, Lucy presses a button on her comm, rerouting the channel to all comms. A fresh wave of noise crackles in Maggie’s ear.

“Director Lane.” the voice filtering through the noise is familiar, but not enough for Maggie to place it.

“Oh yes, I know who you are.” the voice continues, when Lucy remains silent. “And I know about the DEO, too. We’d like you off our premises.”

“That’s big talk for someone holed up in a building that my agents can swarm in minutes.” Lucy replies evenly.

“I’ve got two of those very same agents detained here, that say otherwise.” the smug voice shoots back.

Immediately, fear grips Maggie, as her mind routes directly to the worst possible scenario.

“We want proof of life.” Lucy says, her voice so calm and steady that no one could suspect over the comm that her face is a thundercloud.

“As you wish.”

The familiar feminine voice disappears from Maggie’s ear, replaced by some vague sounds of distant conversation, before Alex’s voice comes through the comm, clearly continuing an ongoing conversation, her words directed at the first speaker. “Go to hell.”

Maggie immediately wants to shout something, something in acknowledgment of Alex, but she waits for Lucy to take the lead.

“Agent.” Lucy addresses the comm, the false address not catching Maggie or any other members of the team by surprise. Of course they would try to hide their cards as best as they could.

It comforts Maggie, too. There’s been a fear growing inside her that Lucy might abandon Alex, seeing as she isn’t officially part of the DEO. Lucy, it seems, is willing to set that aside, at least for now.

“Director.” Alex’s reply comes back, just as brief.

“What happened?” Lucy asks.

“Team lead gave the order to evacuate. I disregarded orders and went back to retrieve a team member.”

“Without alerting the team leader?” Lucy’s calm cracks. “Damn it, agent. Who’s the other agent with you?”

“Maggie’s friend.” Alex’s voice comes back muffled. “The alien.”

“You should have said something.”

Silence falls over the comm, managing to convey stubbornness without a sound.

Maggie moves forward, and without waiting for permission from Lucy, speaks.

“Agent?”

Her voice sounds rough, both from fear and from lack of use over the past few hours. Alex and M’gann, both in the clutches of god-knows-what they’ve stumbled into. It makes Maggie want to scream, or maybe curl up into herself.

A moment later, Alex’s voice comes back through the comm.

“Yeah?” Her question, in turn, is soft, like she’s recognized Maggie’s voice through all the noise.

“Hold on.” Maggie says, unsure of how much more she can say, when their conversation is clearly being monitored on the other side. “Just... hold on. We’re coming for you.”

The faint sound of Alex breathing disappears from the comm, replaced by the sound of the first voice again.

“That is what you will _not_ be doing.” the voice says, still damnably familiar, and damnably hard to place. “You’ve got two hours to evacuate the premises, Director Lane.”

“You’re not in the position to making such a threat.” Lucy fires back. “Since you know so much about the DEO, you know we’re not going to be giving into such demands.”

“Somehow, I think you will. Two hours.” the voice says knowingly, before the signal cuts off.

When Lucy barks a few instructions into the comm to ground control, Vasquez’s chagrined voice replies.

“We lost the signal, ma’am.”

“Damn it!” Lucy swears, before silence falls over the group, as they take in the new development.

“What do you think?” Donovan - the agent who’s Lucy second-in-command - asks, breaking the silence.

“I think,” Lucy’s voice is grim, as she switches the channels on the comm to reach Tsang’s team as well. “That this just turned into a hostage situation, and we might have to play, whether we want to or not.”

\---

 

**Alex**

Lillian pulls back the communicating device away from Alex as soon as Lucy’s defiant reply comes back through it, unceremoniously cutting off the channel with a final ultimatum. Alex, watching the woman closely, can see the first perceptible signs of strain, at the DEO’s continued defiance. She’s not particularly surprised by it. Lillian Luthor is clearly used to dealing with aliens with no rights, prisoners too broken to resist for long. Having to negotiate with someone like her or Lucy must be an unwelcome change. Alex is looking forward to drilling that lesson in further, when she gets the first chance to.

“So, where is it?” Lillian looks up at her, eyes glittering.

“Where’s what?” Alex asks.

“Your receiver.” Lillian expands, her expression turning dangerous again. “I know they didn’t send you in without a communicator.”

Alex smiles again, knowing it infuriates the woman further every time she does so. Lillian, of course, has no way of knowing the DEO’s current comm design was one that Alex herself had designed at J’onn request, an in-ear device camouflaged against the wearer’s skin, specifically to account for situations like this.

“Bite me.” she says. It amuses her that Lillian would literally have to bite her, to get access to the device.

“Your stubbornness won’t do you any good.” Lillian informs her. “It’s not like you’re going to get anything through our barriers.”

When Alex remains silent, Lillian merely lifts an eyebrow, unwilling to verbally concede defeat on her part, and exits with Henshaw and Metallo, leaving Alex and M’gann to the watchful gaze of the two guards posted outside.

Alex avoids M’gann’s gaze after they leave, too frustrated by the situation to seek out conversation. Instead, she sets to inspecting every inch of the cell that is within her reach, trying to find anything she can work with to engineer an escape. The walls and floors are solid concrete, with no cracks or anything of the sort that Alex could exploit, even if she were able to do so without attracting the attention of the guards. Still, she keeps looking, unable to accept that this is where it ends.

“I’m sorry.” M’gann speaks into the silence, after a few minutes of Alex pursuing this fruitless search. “I didn’t mean to bring you into this.”

Alex winces. She thinks if another apology is uttered in her hearing, by her or by anyone else, she just might scream.

Instead, she pulls at her handcuffs again, and kicks out at the ropes binding her, flinching when they dig into already bruised skin.

“If only I could get out out of these.”

M’gann pulls at her own bulkier shackles half-heartedly.

“They were prepared even to face someone like me.” she says. “I think we might have been underestimating this group.”

Alex bites back another snarl of frustration, and thuds her head softly back against the wall.

This isn’t the first time a mission has turned out unexpectedly from how it had been planned. Alex had learned to think on her feet, and chuck procedure out the window when necessary, very soon after becoming a DEO agent. It wasn’t like anyone had written some catch-all guidebook on how to take down alien hostiles. The difference, though, is that she had J’onn and an entire team having her back, then. Given her currently tenuous relationship with the DEO, Alex is not sure how Lucy will take this development, even if Maggie were to intervene on her behalf.

Maggie. Alex pauses in her rapid-fire thoughts, remembering the steadiness of Maggie’s voice. She turns slightly to take inventory of M’gann’s wrecked body next to her, and then surveys her own injuries.

 _Shit._ Alex’s hand closes around the phantom feeling of another hand pressing into it. Maggie is going to be so worried.

\---

 

**Maggie**

“They were right behind us, when I gave the signal to get out of there.” Fanshawe is saying into the comm, sounding frustrated, when Lucy finally gets through to his team. “The team’s rappelling points were staggered, so we didn’t realize that two of our members were missing until we regrouped.”

Maggie listens silently, as Lucy runs a hand over her face while processing this account.

“Didn’t you run an exit count?” Lucy asks.

“When I first gave the order, yes.” Fanshawe’s embarrassed voice comes back through the comm. “They must have disappeared sometime before we reached the exit point.”

“And did either of the two give any indication of anything being off, before their disappearance?”

Maggie’s heart sinks at the suspicion in Lucy’s voice. Of course, Lucy is doing her due diligence from her point of view. Everything Maggie knows about Alex, though, points to the utter impossibility of betrayal or collusion with Cadmus, not least of her reasoning being that Alex wouldn’t have dragged someone as vulnerable as M’gann into such danger.

“They did not, ma’am. They didn’t voice any disagreements when I gave the order to exit.” Fanshawe sounds guilt-ridden as he relays his answer, and Lucy’s frown deepens.

“Regroup with Tsang’s team, and wait on my orders.” she informs him, before switching channels and relaying the order to Tsang’s team as well.

“We can’t just leave.” Maggie begins, as Lucy turns to the rest of their team, clearly on the verge of giving the same order to them. “We need to do something.”

“For now, we’ll just regroup and find out what the hell is going on.” Lucy says, “I’m not in the position where I can just take Danvers’ actions at face value.”

Before Maggie can argue the point further, Vasquez’s voice interrupts again.

“We’ve got another communication incoming, Director.” she says over the comm. “Same origin. And ma’am, try to keep them talking as long as you can, this time.”

Lucy nods silently as she responds in the affirmative to Vasquez, before the agent the switches the channel.

“Lane here.” Lucy says into the comm.

“We see your agents milling outside, director. “The same voice as before speaks. “I see you’re not taking our previous discussion seriously enough.”

“We’ve got no guarantee of release, even if we comply with your demands.” Lucy says calmly. “Let’s have another proof of life.”

“No.” the voice shortly, a strain of tension entering it. “I’m tired of your stalling. You’ve got an hour and forty minutes, now. Their blood will be on your hands, after that.”

The voice cuts off abruptly after that, but Lucy seems unimpressed by the dramatic signoff. Camly, she presses the button to access the channel to ground control.

“She seemed in a hurry to sign off, this time.” Maggie comments.

Lucy nods, and a hum of agreement comes through from Vasquez as well.

“We’re trying to figure out how they’re getting their communications out through the barrier system they’ve set up.” the agent informs them. “Assuming they’re broadcasting from inside the building, they’ve managed to patch through an exception for their signals. If we crack how they’re doing that, maybe we can get a message of our own through to the hostages.”

“ _Can_ we crack it?” Lucy asks.

“I’ve got Agent Schott and Ms. Luthor working on it.” Vasquez confirms. “We’re analyzing the communications that have come in so far.”

“Ms. Luthor?” Lucy sounds instantly suspicious.

“She’s the one who came up with the idea, ma’am.” Vasquez replies. “I’m following the protocols for bringing an outsider into the operation, and Agent Schott is supervising all her actions.”

“Fine.” Lucy relents. “Use your judgment, Susan. And be careful.”

“Always am, Ma’am.” Vasquez says before signing off, all professional, her habitual rough manner gone now that they’re in the middle of an operation.

\---

 

**Alex**

Having exhausted all options of inspecting their cell for a way out, Alex turns her attention to her own shackles. While the metal that her hands are shackled with doesn’t seem to be particularly durable, there isn’t enough give for her to pull it apart. The ropes bind her too tightly to allow much leeway to use a weapon, even if her captors hadn’t clearly stripped her of all such before throwing her into the cell.

Alex sighs in frustration again, wiggling her toes. They’d even taken the knives she habitually hides in her boot soles. That was Max’s doing, she’s sure of it.

Bored with straining against her own bonds, she leans over to inspect her companion’s bulkier shackles. M’gann obligingly brings the shackles as close to Alex’s line of vision as she can, without attracting the attention of the two guards outside.

Alex shakes her head futilely, after a long study.

“It’s seamless.” she mutters, eyes roving over the smooth metal, that shows no crack or give. “Max must have molded it. I’ve got no chance of breaking through to get at any circuitry inside.”

She flops back against the wall at the frustration of being thwarted yet again, which causes her cuffs to jangle, earning a rough shout backwards from one of the guards. Alex bares her teeth at him, hoping to enrage him enough to come into the cell and engage with her. Maybe that’d give her a chance to disarm him, or at least allow M’gann to escape. The guard doesn’t take the bait, turning back to the front instead. Another disappointment.

“It isn’t.” M’gann says.

This reply comes so long after Alex’s initial statement that it takes a while for her to process what it is in response to.

“What?” she asks, when it sinks in. “What do you mean it isn’t?”

M’gann is frowning down at her shackles.

“There’s a hairline seam joining the metal shells.” she says. “Running down the bottom of the cuffs. Your human eyes wouldn’t spot it, unless you were looking closely for it.”

“How can you tell?” Alex asks. “I thought those shackles-”

“Inhibit my phasing, and my psychic powers.” M’gann says. “My vision is just pure biology. It’s not like they tore my eyes out.”

“Phasing?” Alex interrupts. “Psychic powers? Wait, what are you?”

In her frustration, she had forgotten her initial curiosity of just _what_ this mysterious alien friend of Maggie’s was. Now, though, it occurs to her that only one race she’s aware of possesses that particular gamut of extranormal powers.

M’gann’s shackled hands sink back to her lap, before her face tilts towards Alex. The expression on her face is an extremely reluctant one.

“I’m M’gann M’orzz.” she admits quietly, to Alex’s shock. “The last daughter of Mars.”

\---

 

**Maggie**

“The signal’s exception code seems to be dynamic.” Lena Luthor’s low and controlled voice updates them over the comm, when Lucy’s team reunites with the other two recon teams stationed outside the warehouse. “It’s making it hard to pin down.”

“Speak English please, Ms. Luthor.” Lucy requests, her tone sounding wary to Maggie’s ears. “Do we have a chance of cracking the code?”

“The system is familiar to something I’ve worked on before, so I’d say yes.” Lena admits. “I managed to hold the channel open for a few seconds on my last try, before the codes changed again. I’m trying to widen that time gap.”

“Even a few minutes will help.” Lucy says, and Maggie can tell that she’s trying her best to sound encouraging, rather than frustrated. “Assuming their comms haven’t been confiscated, establishing contact with the hostages will help us get a better idea of what kind of situation is brewing in there.”

“I know.” Lena acknowledges. “But I need _time.”_

Lucy replies with something calm and encouraging, and Maggie turns away, trying not to give away her own impatience. She knows this is part of the mission; she’s been through this rigmarole before.

It’s just never been this personal before, and she’s never felt so far removed from control in her previous missions. She scrubs at her face discreetly, away from the sight of the other agents, and wills her vision to not blur again. She’s sat through too many hours of inaction tonight, too many hours of turning her own thoughts over in her head, to stay objective in this situation. Having M’gann - one of her few friends - be taken captive is bad enough. With Alex, though, the fear is accompanied by a sharper loss, of something taken away before it even had a chance to manifest.

It is now, when faced with this situation where she might never get to see Alex again, that Maggie sees most clearly what she’d passed up on. Not just the warmth of Alex’s skin against her own, the weight of her face sinking into Maggie’s touch, the softness that she seems to never reveal to anyone other than Maggie. It’s those physical comforts too, yes, that she mourns already, but also the chance for a future with Alex. A future where they get to be _together,_ not just for work and stakeouts, but for fun. To walk through parks, check out random food trucks and ice cream stands. To lie under the stars at night together, and pretend just for a few hours that they don’t lives that are endangered regularly.

Now, she might never get to see Alex again, and all Maggie can feel is regret that the last memory Alex has of her, is Maggie turning her down.

\---

 

**Alex**

“You’re a Martian.” Alex states the obvious, staring at her fellow captive in shock.

M’gann nods, still looking wary.

“I felt something here.” she reveals haltingly. “Something that felt familiar. Something like me. I couldn’t leave until I had found what was the cause of it.”

“Something like you.” Alex echoes.

All of a sudden, there’s a wild hope running rampant through her, and all her annoyance with M’gann vanishes, as overwhelming relief crushes it.

“We have to get out of here.” she says. “Right now.”

“What?” M’gann stares at her. “I told you; it’s impossible.”

Alex shakes her head, looking around in frustration, at the smooth walls, the pristine floor, looking for something, _anything,_ when the continued straining of her body against the ropes causes something to cut into her leg.

The pain is familiar, but this time, when Alex pinpoints the source, it’s not from an area where the ropes are cutting into her body. The feeling is sharp, like an edge pressing against her skin. Alex pauses. They had taken all her weapons from her. They couldn’t possibly have left behind anything on her person that was capable of causing such a cut.

Then, she remembers sharp metal digging into her palm, when Maggie had given her the bottle opener as a borrowed keepsake. Alex had tucked it away deep into her tactical pants, into the pocket she had stitched into the inside seam. It had felt like a good luck charm, when she had burrowed it away in there.

One hell of a good luck charm, Alex thinks, jerking her leg back and forth, as much as she can against the restraints.

“What are you doing?” M’gann asks, eyeing her oddly.

Alex grimaces. Twisting her torso to a straining point, accompanied by more painful jerks of her legs, allows her to feel the cold metal slide upwards. It’s still out of reach of her hands, but if she maneuvers herself just so-

“Reach in.” she tells M’gann, face screwed up from the pain of old injuries re-opened by her straining against her bonds.

It takes M’gann some time to angle herself downwards to a position where she can reach into Alex’s pocket. Alex can feels her scrambling around when she finally manages to get her straining fingers in there. A grunt of pain from M’gann, a pull, and the bottle opener comes flying out of the pocket. Alex’s heart rate spikes, but M’gann’s scrambling hands catch the opener before it can hit the floor and make a sound to alert the guards.

After whispered instructions from Alex, M’gann holds the opener awkwardly, with the small bit of play her shackles allow her, and start working at the ropes on Alex’s wrists with the sharp edge. After minutes of steady work, with Alex pulling on the ropes in between, they fray just enough to loosen up her wrists.

“This can’t do anything to your handcuffs, though.” M’gann murmurs, pointing at the metal encasing Alex’s wrists.

“Throw it to me.” Alex instructs.

M’gann looks doubtful for a moment, before carefully balancing the metal on her fingers and tossing it sideways, so it falls in a neat arc towards Alex’s hands, a tiny glint of movement in the darkness that otherwise encases their cell.

“What now?” M’gann murmurs, as Alex’s hand closes around the metal.

“Maybe it can’t cut through my handcuffs.” Alex says, “But, let’s see if I can use it to pry apart the shell of yours. If I can somehow jam the circuitry of whatever’s causing your powers to fritz, it’ll be worth it.”

“I told you,” M’gann says, “The seam is barely a hairline wide.”

“Just show me where it is.”

M’gann’s straining fingers point at where the seam supposedly is. Even when Alex bends down to press her eyes almost right against the metal, she can’t really make it out. When she runs the sharp edge of the opener against the metal in the surrounding area, though, she feels it. There’s a slight dip in the smooth-looking metal, right at the area M’gann is gesturing at, where the sharp edge of the opener slips into.

“You’re kidding.” M’gann says, as Alex starts working away at that edge, plying the opener back and forth slowly. “That’ll take you _ages_.”

“I’ve got nowhere to be.” Alex says.

She slips into a laser focus as her hands work away. The repetitive friction of the opener against her skin causes the flesh to tear over time, so she keeps shifting the edge further down along her fingers, until her fingers are a bruised and bloody mess from the repeated movement. By the time Alex feels the metal give the slightest bit under her movements, a full hour must have passed, and there are bleeding half-moon cuts all over her fingers and palm. It hurts, she registers that vaguely, but her brain is too focused on that slight bit of give, to really process the physical pain. If anything, Alex starts working with renewed vigour, after feeling that small movement in the metal.

She can feel the opening widen as she works away. The wider it gets, the slower and gentler she makes her movements, to lessen the chance of any unexpected loud cracks that could alert the guards.

When she finally pries the shell apart, exposing the insides, Alex remains silent, studying the neat array of wires and circuit boards.

“I was of the understanding that your specialty was medicine.” M’gann says, as Alex stares down at the exposed circuitry. “Not... this.”

“I learned.” Alex mumbles, reaching out to grasp at a few chosen wires.

She’d learned a lot of things for Kara. How to lie. How to kill. How to manipulate various types of technology - both human and alien - had been one such thing, but it had turned into an enjoyable hobby, over her years at the DEO. Alex had developed a connoisseur’s joy over inspecting and repurposing every new weapon and device they had confiscated from a raid. It had been a rare chance to flex her scientific muscles, between the routine field missions that she had been assigned otherwise.

Now, Alex looks over the circuitry with practised ease, and feels a renewed surge of anger, as she takes in the familiar configuration. At the DEO, she had repurposed technology like this, to aid containment of dangerous prisoners like Jemm and Maxima. And here is Maxwell, using it to indiscriminately hole up aliens like lab rats. Alex feels a savage satisfaction as she rips away the chosen pieces of wire, although the vehemence of her movement makes the wires cut painfully into already bleeding fingers.

“What are you doing?” M’gann asks with some alarm at the beginning, before cutting off. “ _Oh._ ”

She repeats the word in wonder a few more times as Alex works away, before she clenches her hands. There’s a burst of green light, not a sickly green like kryptonite, but of a more muted hue, like summer grass. Then, the handcuffs shatter.

That sound draws the attention of the guards, who look back and hurry towards them, yelling something into their earpieces.

Alex swears, but M’gann seems to whir out of existence just then, appearing a few paces away. Another whir, and she’s in front of Alex, breaking apart Alex’s own handcuffs, just as their guards break in the cell door.

One of the guards fires, and Alex flinches, but M’gann’s arm shoots out, shielding her. The projectile the guard had shot bounces harmlessly off of the alien’s body.

The guard who had fired audibly gulps.

M’gann looks back at Alex, and her smile is a little amused.

“Ready to have some fun?”

Alex is already getting to her feet.

“Way ahead of you.” she says, slinging her broken handcuff towards the cowering guard, before charging forward, and wrapping them around his throat from behind before he can react.

It hurts, the shackles straining against her bleeding hand, but Alex grits her teeth and pulls, slamming his face into the wall repeatedly until he slumps, unconscious. M’gann makes quick work of the other guard, before making her way over.

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” Alex asks, as M’gann palms the head of the guard that Alex had just fought, as it listening for something.

“All Martians learn to fight early.” M’gann says absentmindedly.

“Right.” Alex says, her memories with J’onn coming back to her, and making her voice soften. “To protect yourselves from the White Martians.”

“Right.” M’gann says, and the reply sounds a little listless.

Alex knows an evasive answer when she sees one, but she chalks it up to the fact that M’gann seems distracted by whatever she’s sensing for in the guard.

“He’s out cold, too.” M’gann surmises finally, before rising. “They won’t be up for a couple more hours, at least, but other guards will come looking for us soon. Come on, I’ll help you find the nearest way out.”

“Hell no.” Alex says. “I’m sticking with you.”

“You don’t have to, Alex.” M’gann says. “Just because I’m Maggie’s friend-”

“It’s not just that, anymore.” Alex interrupts.

She doesn’t even know _how_ to vocalize the futile hope that had erupted inside her, from the moment M’gann had revealed her true identify as a Martian. For the last daughter of Mars to have sensed something similar in this forsaken place-

_I am J’onn J’onzz, the last son of Mars._

Alex wordlessly points at M’gann to lead the way, and doggedly follows the Martian as she flies through the hallways.

\---

 

**Maggie**

“Ms. Luthor has locked in on something.” Vasquez’ terse voice comes over the comm, before there’s an audible check, as she switches the channel. “We’re trying to contact Agent Danvers.”

“I can’t hold the channel for more than a few minutes.” Lena says hurriedly. “Hang on.”

Maggie holds her breath, as there’s another click, and more crackle of noise, before Lucy speaks into the comm.

“Agent. Agent, are you there? Report.”

There’s more noise, and a long pause punctured by laboured breathing, before Alex’s voice comes over the line, causing Maggie to expel the breath she has been holding.

“It’s working again.” Alex is saying, presumably talking to M’gann, before addressing them directly. “Director.”

“They didn’t take away your comms?” Lucy asks, tension making her voice over-loud.

“They never found it.” Alex’s voice comes back, sounding far too smug for someone in her situation. “I told you we should keep using my design.”

“You can say I told you so later, agent.” Lucy interrupts. “Can you give us a rundown of your situation?”

“Got cornered by two goons while trying to find M’gann, woke up in a cell, broke out.” Alex rattles off breezily, to stunned silence from the team listening in. “Now we’re on the run, looking to see what else we can find here.”

“What the hell?” Lucy asks in disbelief. “Alex, this is not-”

“I think they’re holding other prisoners here.” Alex interrupts. “Alien prisoners. We’ve got to at least _try_ to do something about them.”

“Danvers!” Lucy hisses, “This is a recon mission. You were supposed to stick to the plan, and get out.”

“You don’t understand-” Alex’s protesting voice comes back, “I think it could be-”

Lucy looks both furious and anxious. Maggie moves forward, unable to keep from biting her lips.

“Alex?” she vocalizes into her own comm, aware of Lucy throwing her hands up in futility beside her.

There’s a pause.

“Yeah?” Alex’s voice, less defiant now, replies.

“Alex, get out of there.” Maggie pleads, not caring anymore how frayed her voice sounds. “Both of you.”

“We don’t have much time left, ma’am.” Vasquez warns, cutting in. “Lena can only hold the connection for so long.”

“I’m sorry, Maggie.” Alex’s voice comes through the comm. “I have to do this.”

“No, A-” Maggie wants to scream, or screw the comm out of her ear and fling it at the wall, when static from the other end cuts her words off.

“Sorry, that’s as long as I could hold it.” Lena’s apologetic voice comes over the channel. “But, at least I’ve got an in, now. I’m going to see if I can hack in, and take their entire system out.”

 _But how long before that happens?_ Maggie wants to snap.

“We have to go in.” she says instead, turning to Lucy. “We have to help them.”

“No.” Lucy snaps back. “You heard Alex. They’re on some wild goose chase. You want me to risk bringing my agents into that mess, without even waiting for Winn and Lena to give us an open line of communication?”

“We don’t know how long that will take.” Maggie argues. “Alex and M’gann are in there _right now,_ and their lives are in danger.”

“Only because they’ve gone rogue, instead of waiting for us to open hostage negotiations.” Lucy says, clearly out of patience.

“There must be a good reason.” Maggie says. Alex can be reckless at times, but Maggie has never known her to be downright idiotic, and M’gann has never struck her as possessing either quality.

“What you’re asking for is a suicide mission, Maggie.” Lucy says, “I’m the Director of this organization. I can’t just risk my agents like that, just because Alex is...was... my friend.”

She sighs, and ruffles her hair out of her helmet as she continues.

“Winn and Lena might never break through the system.” she says, looking at Maggie. “If we go in there, we’re going in without backup, and without any hope of getting a message back out. Do  you understand that?”

“Of course I do.” Maggie says, before the full implication of Lucy’s question sinks in. “Does this mean-”

“A small team might be our best shot.” Lucy mutters, as if talking to herself. “Especially if Danvers and the alien have their security distracted by the escape.”

She seems to reach a decision, and looks over at her second-in-command.

“Donovan.” she calls out to him. “Hold down the fort.”

“You’re coming with me?” Maggie asks.

“Me too!” Agent Fanshawe blurts out, stepping forward and then coloring slightly, when the two women stare at him. “I mean, it’s kind of my fault that she... that they’re in there.”

“If Agent Danvers chose to break formation, that’s on her.” Lucy tells him.

“Still.” he maintains stubbornly.

“Fine.” Lucy says.

As more agents step forward, though, her face darkens with both irritation and humour.

“This isn’t an auction!” she snaps, before pointing at Maggie, Fanshawe and two of the other agents who had stepped forward.

“You, you, you and you.” she counts off. “Suit up. We’re going in.”

\---

 

**Alex**

As Alex follows M’gann through the dizzying array of hallways and corridors, her initial bravado fades, and she finds herself hoping that the woman knows what she’s doing.

“Are you sure that you know where we’re headed?” she asks, for the tenth time. “Only, we seem to be doubling back a lot.”

While the walls in the place are identical, almost clinical in their uniformity, Alex is pretty sure she’s seen that particular crack on the plaster on the wall they’re passing before.

“I’m doing my best.” M’gann replies patient, also for the tenth time. “What I’m sensing is faint. I’m going half by memory here.”

“Fantastic.” Alex grumbles. _Why_ had she thought this was a good idea? Except, every time such doubts spring up, the hope rears up its head too, and she knows that she has to see this mission through, even if there were only the slightest chance of success.

“They’re mostly patrolling the exits, and I’m keeping us out of sight of the security cameras.” M’gann says bracingly. “They’re bound to figure out where we’re headed soon, but we’ve got a bit of time before they catch up to us.”

Even as she says this, a guard rounds out of a hallway at them, already shooting.

Alex goes for the gun she had filched from one of the guards they had already taken down, but M’gann is therefore her, disarming the guard and smashing him against the wall, rendering him unconscious immediately. Alex feels a tinge of envy for just a moment, at such superhuman power on display, before M’gann rounds on her with a look of concern.

“I’m fine.” Alex says, before she can ask. “Let’s keep going, before more of them find us.”

When they reach the end of the corridor, the Martian stalls for a moment, looking at the floor.

“Down here.” she says, heading towards what appears to be an emergency exit. The fire alarm doesn’t go off as she pushes it open, though.

Alex can feel a perceptible drop in temperature, as they go down the stairs. When they emerge three levels down, the corridor they enter has a different feel to it, too, nothing like the clinical hallways above. Neglect and dereliction shows here, seeming to weigh down the air itself. M’gann stalks forward into the oppressive atmosphere like she knows exactly what she’s looking for, but Alex can’t help but falter.

“Where now?” she mutters, following M’gann, hoping for some reassurance.

It doesn’t come. M’gann walks down the hallway without replying, slowly and in plain sight of any surveillance cameras. Alex follows her while pressed against the shadows of the wall, the gun she had taken from the first guard swivelling in front of her. As if attracted by a magnet, M’gann stops at one of the doors halfway down, from the cracks of which light is seeping out. There are a dozen other identical rooms arranged down the corridor, similarly lit, but the Martian’s attention seems singularly focused on this one. She aims an experimental punch at the door, and frowns when it stays intact.

“They’ve reinforced it against superhuman attack.” she says, as Alex nears. “We’re going to need the passcode to get it.”

“Let me.” Alex says, moving to the entry keypad next to the door. A few minutes of fiddling with it, and the door slides open.

When they step into the room, the first thing that catches Alex’s eyes is how derelict it is, despite having the basic layout of a hospital ward. The second is that there’s a curtain obscuring the patient on the bed, from which cruel-looking wires are extruding, hooked up to monitors. At least some of the contraptions attached to the wires are clearly not of a medical bent.

Alex speeds to the bed, rips apart the coverings in a frenzy, and can’t help the breath that escapes her all at once, as she takes in the figure lying on it.

“J’onn.” she whispers, almost reverently, sinking by the bedside of her mentor, the lifeline who had pulled her up from the lowest point of her life. “I’m here. It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

\---

 

**Maggie**

The guard posted at the end of the hallway makes no sign of having heard them, as Maggie and Lucy creep up behind him. They silently signal to each other, before Maggie reaches forward and clamps a hand over his mouth, while Lucy hits him from behind. A few more well-placed hits, and the guard’s struggling form hits the ground, the sound of impact muffled by Maggie catching him mid-fall and lowering him gently.

Maggie and Lucy separate to stake out each end of the hallway and report back, while two agents inspect the fallen guard.

“He’s out cold.” Agent Fanshawe says eventually, rising up from the guard. “Wow, that’s six to zero in our favor, so far.”

“Don’t get cocky.” Lucy warns. “No heroics. We’re here to get in, find the hostages, and get out.”

“But where are those two?” Maggie asks in frustration, as they creep down another hallway, the tenth they’ve checked out so far. “They’re not responding to the comms.”

As if on cue, an alarm starts blaring from below.

There’s a pause, as Maggie and Lucy stare in the direction of the alarm, and then at each other.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Danvers, in my short time working with her,” Lucy breaks the impasse, amusement in her voice, “Wherever shit’s being fucked up, she’s probably at the heart of it.”

As one, the two of them run in the direction of the alarm, the three remaining DEO agents following hot on their heels.

\---

 

**Alex**

Alex doesn’t get to do much more than do a cursory check of J’onn’s vitals, before the alarm signalling their security breach goes off. The distant sound of guards searching for them isn’t so distant anymore, as loud footsteps sound outside the corridor.

“Flank him.” M’gann says urgently, as the door bursts in, and the first wave of guards run in. Alex immediately retreats against the bed, taking a defensive stance in front of J’onn’s prone form, aware of M’gann doing the same beside her.

The next few minutes have Alex applying everything she had learned in the DEO training rooms, while outnumbered three to one. Even so, she’s barely holding them off. M’gann is faring a little better, but not by far, between being outnumbered and fighting in a space that is too confined for her to make full use of her powers. They can only delay the inevitable for so long, Alex knows.

When the door bursts in again, her heart can’t help but sink, because some part of her had still thought she could still come out on top. With the threat of facing more guards, though, that confidence dwindles quickly.

However, it is Maggie and Lucy who leap in through the doorway, with more DEO agents following them, laying into the guards from behind. The surprise attack proves effective, disorienting the guards long enough to give Alex a chance to get her breath back.

And then - Alex is aware of a gasp, muted in all the other noise around them - Maggie is reaching for her, fighting her way through the mess, grappling with a guard and throwing his flailing form out of her way almost absentmindedly. Alex moves forward to meet her, as Maggie nears, and then Maggie is kissing her, hard, her lips clinging to Alex’s with a desperation she’s never shown before. Alex pants into her mouth, mostly from the exertion of fighting, but Maggie swallows her gasps as they come, lips moving against her own with a coaxing firmness that’s setting Alex’s body on fire despite the situation. Alex’s confusion, anger and fear all seem to melt away, as they sway in place, lips fused together.

When they break the kiss, Maggie stays clinging to her, her head dropping into the crook of Alex’s neck. Even through her daze, Alex feels the wetness pressing against her skin, as Maggie mutters something, muffled by Alex’s skin and her own mane of hair. When Maggie pulls back, though, her eyes are blazing, and she looks as fierce as Alex has ever seen her.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again.” she says, “We’re a fucking team, Danvers. Don’t you ever go in without me again.”

Alex doesn’t reply. She’s too dazed, from the kiss and from their locked gaze. They have to look away from each other eventually, though, stepping back hastily from the sound of a gurgled hiss, just in time to see a guard that had been aiming her gun at them fall. As the guard crumples, there is Lucy behind her, holding a stunner out.

“Do you mind?” Lucy asks the two of them, looking half-annoyed and half-amused. “We’ve got an escape to plan.”

Alex grins, and sees an answering smirk unfurl on Maggie’s face. As one, they whirl away from each other, Alex’s hand curving up to punch the guard trying to sneak up behind her. From the corner of her eyes, she can she Maggie accosted by two more guards. Before Alex can move to help her, Maggie has stunned one of them, and directed a well- aimed kick at the other, pushing him back.

Satisfied, Alex turns back to her own fight. The phantom sensation of the kiss is lingering on her lips, and the memory of it is running like fire through her veins. Mingled with the adrenaline of combat, it makes every punch she lands feel euphoric. She feels like she’s floating half a foot off the ground, moving too fast to be caugh-

“-Oof.” Which is why the sudden punch to her gut makes her double up.

“Not so fast.” Henshaw growls, carelessly pushing the guard that Alex had been fighting out of his way, as he aims another hit at Alex. “Where do you think you’re going with _my_ prisoner?”

Alex doesn’t bother answering him. Now that she’s seen J’onn, the _real_ J’onn, half-dead and unconscious on the bed behind her, all she feels is hatred for this mirror image in front of her. So, she focuses on staying just out of reach, infuriating him, while trying to get a clear shot at him with her weapon. The first shot she lands doesn’t do more than make him wince, though.

“That won’t work on me.” Henshaw says, grappling her in a near-hold that Alex kicks her way out of.

“Is that why you wanted J’onn?” Alex spits out, aware of M’gann fighting Metallo next to her, helped along by Lucy. “Why you wanted Supergirl, and every other alien you tried to get your hands on? So you can take their body apart, and remake yourself better? You’re pathetic.”

Henshaw looks really pissed off at that, at her pointing out that he might have possibly _wanted_ something from the aliens he hated so much, and his retaliatory punch sends Alex reeling. Before he can follow up to land a finishing blow, Maggie steps between Alex and him, shielding Alex from further hits until she regains her footing. Alex joins her as soon as she recovers, and they hold off Henshaw together, able to anticipate each other’s moves well enough now, so that they almost move as one.

Every DEO agent that Alex can see in the room is doing their best, fighting off the seemingly overwhelming numbers with everything they’ve got. They’re eking out a stalemate so far, but something is going to give eventually, and Alex knows the numbers are not on their side.

“We can’t keep this much longer.” Lucy mutters to her, when their fighting brings them into close proximity.

“I know.” Alex says, dodging another punch from Henshaw. “Damn it.”

“M’gann.” Maggie calls out from the other side of Henshaw, to the Martian who’s still fighting Metallo. “We can’t do this alone. We need help. We need _them_.”

 _Who?_ Alex’s curiosity is immediately piqued at those words, but she’s too distracted by fending off Henshaw to fully indulge it at the moment.

“I can’t reach them!” M’gann yells back. “There’s some sort of barrier around the whole building. It’s keeping anything from getting out.”

“We’ve got agents working on bringing down their system.” Lucy says. “We just need to buy time. Just enough to get more agents in here.”

She cuts off to fight off another approaching guard, and Alex finds herself and Maggie engaged too fiercely by Henshaw, to discuss anything further in the next few minutes.

That is, until-

“What the hell?”

Maxwell Lord’s sharp voice comes from the doorway, causing Henshaw to pause in his attack, and giving Alex and Maggie a chance to regroup.

“They escaped?” Max asks, staring at Alex before turning on Henshaw. “Henshaw, you incompetent-”

Henshaw shoves Max’s approaching form with a cursory push of the hand.

“I don’t work for you, pretty boy.” he says. “I thought _your_ handcuffs were supposed to keep the Martian’s powers subdued.”

For a moment, there’s a lull in the fighting, as the guards look between Henshaw and Max, clearly trying to figure out who’s in charge. Alex files away that lack of clear organization as something the DEO might be able to exploit later.

“Alex.” Max snaps suddenly, rounding on her. “ _You_ broke the handcuffs.”

“You fuck with my technology, I fuck with yours.” Alex retorts.

Maxwell Lord recovers quickly.

“Alex, seriously.” he remarks, walking further into the room, and casually surveying the damage. “Can you even imagine how many years of scientific research you’re undoing?”

“Murder isn’t science, Max.” Alex says. “I thought _you_ were the one that finished medical school, not me. I know the oaths they made you swear at graduation, at Harvard.”

Max’s eyes narrow, but Alex is just buying time, saying whatever comes to her mind to stall the fighting. It seems to make Max hesitate all the same. Alex doesn’t think it’s because he actually _cares_ , not about J’onn or Kara or any of the other aliens he had targeted. Maybe he cares, though, about what _she_ thinks, and when push comes to shove, Alex is very happy to use that against him.

“She’s wasting our time.” Henshaw growls, when Max opens his mouth to protest her statement. “You fool.”

“Not for much longer.” Max says smoothly, skating over the insult. He gestures behind him, at the hallway, in a cursory fashion. “Gentlemen.”

The two dozen guards that file behind him from the hallway are nothing like the unprepared idiots that Alex has fought until now. These new ones are dressed head-to-toe in tactical gear, and armed to the teeth. Alex has faced some pretty stark odds in her career at the DEO, and come out on top, but this is looking bleaker by the second.

Within minutes, they’re surrounded. Lucy gives a terse agents for her agents to stop resisting arrest, as guns are pointed in their direction, rounding them up in the middle of the room.

“What now?” Alex breathes, as Max and Henshaw survey their huddled group, Metallo hovering behind them like a phantom. She can feel Maggie next to her, warm and solid. Alex brushes an elbow against hers, aiming to comfort but feeling comforted herself instead, when the warmth of their bodies press through their clothing. Maggie’s face gives nothing away, as usual. Alex had found that tendency to be infuriating when they first met. Later on, when trying to get to know Maggie better, she had often found it frustrating and attractive all at once. Now, she can only admire it, because this is one hell of a situation to be maintaining that good a poker face in.

To Alex’s other side, Lucy looks both resigned and defiant, her eyes tracking the movements of the three men holding court up front. Then, Alex sees her lips move, as the three move away to organize the guards.

“Vasquez just got through to us. Lena and Winn broke through the system.”

Alex feels the comm in her ear blast to life, and suddenly she can hear Vasquez barking rapid-fire instructions to the agents stationed outside the building.

“They should be deploying a rescue team soon.” Lucy murmurs. “We just have to keep everyone together and alive, until they can get to us.”

“I’ve got something better.” M’gann joins in quietly, from behind them.

As Alex and Lucy exchange puzzled glances at this curious remark, Alex feels Maggie tense up behind her. Before she can think on that odd reaction further, M’gann speaks again, a little louder this time. “Astra? Astra, can you hear me now? Kara? We could use some help.”

The first name would have been shocking enough on its own, but the utterance of the second one slams between Alex’s ribs like a freight truck. Her attention narrows down to four letters, two syllables, one name. It takes everything in her to not whirl back, grab M’gann by the collar, and ask her what the hell she had meant by calling out for that name. The guards surrounding them are already on edge, though, and any sudden movement is sure to get one of them killed, so Alex shuts up and keeps quiet. Her heart, however, is thundering against her chest. It can’t be, they’re dead, _Kara_ is dead-

As she struggles, the building seems to shudder, as if from an earthquake. There’s a crash from above, like the roof is falling in, and the following minutes pass by too fast for Alex to keep track of everything that happens. First, there is a blur of movement, followed by a cacophony of sound. Though it can’t have lasted more than a few seconds, at the end of it, all the guards that had surrounded them are lying on the ground, groaning or unconscious.Their broken weapons are strewn around the floor, along with crumbling pieces of plaster and cement, from three levels of ceiling smashed in by a force that no human is capable of.

And in front of them, staring down Max and Henshaw and Metallo, are two ghosts.

Alex feels frozen, feet affixed to the floor. From beside her, she hears a long exhale of breath from Maggie, but Alex’s eyes seem fixated on the spectre of Kara in front of her, who is staring down Max determinedly.

Max recovers before the other two beside him.

“Metallo.” he says, and the named man steps forward, the sickly green core of his chest flowing.

By instinct, Alex steps forward, ready to propel herself between the kryptonite, but the apparition of Kara puts up a staying hand in her direction. The kryptonite blast dissipates harmlessly as it hits her chest. When the green light fades, Alex notices something familiar twinkling blue on the side of the “S” on the uniform. The same blue light is twinkling on Kara’s aunt’s black-clad figure.

“Try again?” Kara asks mock-innocently, and Alex has to smile, because of course it’s Kara. That shit-eating grin, that cocky tilt of the head... how can any imposter fake that? It should be impossible, but-

“Kara?” Alex speaks out, her voice sounding all scratchy.

The red capes flares as Kara turns to face her, her expression softening immediately.

“Alex.” she says, closing the distance between them in quick strides, and stares at Alex, as if trying to memorize every line on her face.

“But, you _can’t_ be-” Alex states. She feels numbed, like there’s so much joy and relief inside her all at once, that her body seems to have shut down, vibrating with the magnitude of what she’s feeling. Kara is here, the same Kara who had bled out in front of her, her body riddled by kryptonite pellets. “You _died.”_

Kara takes Alex’s hand, and places it against her wrist.

“Only a little.” she says, as she does so.

Alex hears the steady thrum of Kara’s pulse under her thumb. Too slow for a human, and too regular, shaped to be so by centuries of Kryptonian bioengineering. It is a rhythm that Alex had memorized, when she had first seen it on a heartbeat monitor, had committed the falls and lifts of the cardiogram to memory, just as Kara had memorized her heartbeat.

“It’s you.” Alex whispers, to her sister.

“If you’re done with the touching reunion,” Maxwell Lord cuts in, “Supergirl, care to explain how you’re alive?”

“Nope.” Kara says, turning back to him. She turns back again to Alex quickly, when Alex unclips the gun from her belt, fully intent on unloosing a round on Max for the casual way he had brought Kara’s death up.

“Alex, _no.”_

“It was him, Kara.” Alex grits out. “ _He_ was the one who synthesised that Red Kryptonite.”

“Still.” Kara says, shifting her body to block Alex’s line of fire. Alex moves the gun up, only to have Kara’s arm come up and cover it. “There are better ways, Alex.”

Alex huffs. Part of her still seems to be numbed, but her body is reacting, just as it has been trained to do in unexpected situations. “Fine, but there are more guards coming. We have to get all these people out. And these lot will be waking up soon, too.”

She waves a hand at the disarmed guards on the ground, who are already stirring, their fingers twitching for their habitual weapons.

“Kryptonite isn’t the only weapon we’ve got, Supergirl.” Max says, as Kara turns back to him. His face, which had turned pale when Alex had pointed her gun at him, is back to its cocky set. “You didn’t think this was going to be easy, did you?”

“You really aren’t in the position to be making statements like that.” Kara shoots back defiantly.

“He’s right, Kara.” another voice joins the conversation. Astra, the shadow that had been quietly standing in the background, steps forward now. “This situation is quite volatile.”

Astra moves closer to Kara as she speaks, and Alex immediately feels defensiveness spike in her heart, feels the need to step between her sister and this woman who had been their enemy, the last time that Alex had seen her.

Kara, however, seems unheeding of any threat, merely shaking her head stubbornly at her aunt’s words.

“We can’t leave the prisoners behind.” she says. “Any of them.”

“I wouldn’t have expected you to.” Astra says, smiling at Kara proudly, more warmth passing between them than Alex ever remembers the two sharing. “I meant that you should get them out, while I hold this rabble off.”

She waves a dismissive hand at Max, Henshaw and Metallo. Kara still looks stubborn, and when worry and hesitation join forces on her face, Alex decides to step in. She has no idea what Astra is doing here _helping_ Kara, or how she’s even alive, but what’s uppermost in Alex’s mind is the inevitability of more guards ambushing, with technology they might not be able to hold up against.

“I can unlock the doors holding the prisoners, Kara.” she says. “You and M’gann can carry them out. We’ve got DEO agents waiting outside with transport vans.”

“I can patrol the hallway to put off at least the first wave of reinforcements.” Maggie says, turning to Lucy. “You coming?”

“Right behind you.” Lucy says, before she and Maggie file out of the room,followed by Fanshawe and the other two DEO agents. Alex tries to catch Maggie’s eyes as she leaves, wanting just one reassuring glance, but Maggie seems too intent on her task to look back. Feeling a bit hollow at the lost chance, Alex tries her best to focus on the job at hand, turning back to Kara and M’gann.

“Stop-” Henshaw says, as M’gann moves to the bed to carefully pick J’onn up from the mass of wires and covering him. He tries to go after her, but doubles over, when Astra kicks him from behind, sending him careening into the wall, before engaging the advancing Metallo.

Alex watches Max creep away from the fighting, wondering if she should go after him, but Kara and M’gann are bearing down on her before she can proceed.

“The other rooms, Alex.” Kara reminds her, leading her towards the exit, while M’gann follows behind, floating a few inches off the ground while hefting J’onn’s body.

“Right.” Alex says dazedly, and then they’re running out through the door, racing against time to get the rest of the prisoners out.

Alex cracks the code of each door as quickly as she can, already aware of the sound of shooting coming from both ends of the hallway, as Maggie and Lucy’s teams engage the new wave of guards that had been sent to engage them.

Once she undoes the last of the twelve doors, and Kara is flying out with the last of the prisoners to the DEO agents outside, Alex considers running down to Maggie’s side to help out with the fighting. M’gann’s hand on her shoulder stalls her, until Kara returns. At that point, both Kara and M’gann disappear together, returning in seconds carrying Lucy and Maggie, as well as the other DEO agents.

“We need to get out now.” Maggie says, reaching out with stumbling feet for Alex, as soon as Kara releases her. “The guards. There are _dozens_ of them, Alex.”

“But what about-?” M’gann starts, looking back at the room that had once housed J’onn’s prone form, from which sounds of fighting are still ensuing.

“She’ll have to hold them off.” Kara says, determinedly looking away from the room. “I’ll need your help to protect the DEO transport vans when we take the prisoners back, M’gann.”

A look of agreement passes between the group, before M’gann picks Maggie and Lucy up. Alex finds herself bodily lifted by her sister, and then they’re all crashing through into the sunlight, to the DEO vans outside, to _freedom._

\----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tries not to feel guilty about writing Lillian Luthor like this*
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed. Sorry I've been lax at responding to comments lately. I've literally been spending all my free time working on this fic, so that's my excuse. I'll respond to them when I wake up tomorrow, because it's oh-god-o-clock here right now. In the meantime, thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoy this chapter!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pleadingly points at the fic rating that I changed a few chapters ago* Please take note of that in this and following chapters.

Maggie rides in the last of the row of DEO transport vans heading from the warehouse into the desert, keeping an eye out for pursuers. One ear is trained out the window, listening for any potential ambush headed their way, while the other is tuned into her comm, where Lucy is barking rapidfire instructions to Vasquez about temporarily relocating key personnel from DEO’s city headquarters to its desert base.

“The desert base is more fortified.” Lucy says, when she clicks off the comm. Though ostensibly speaking to her second-in-command, her voice is pitched to reach everyone in the van. “Less chance of civilian casualties too, if Cadmus finds us and decides to retaliate.”

Maggie gives a perfunctory nod, before returning to her survey of the desert. On the other side of the van, Kara and Alex sit opposite each other. Kara is busy scanning their surroundings, sometimes staring straight through the metal sides of the van, but Alex seems distracted. From her peripheral vision, Maggie often catches her turning from the speeding desert scape to watch Kara, as if afraid her sister would disappear if Alex looked away for too long.

Though Maggie takes care not to look directly their way, she can’t help her thoughts being occupied by the two of them. Specifically, of Kara’s revelations to come, and what Alex would make of them. Long experience has Maggie mechanically doing the appropriate visual and aural checks for signs of ambush, while her mind ruminates on the possibilities. What is Alex going to think about the fact that Maggie had _known_ , and never bothered to tell her?

Nothing good, Maggie surmises, and this reluctant realization has her staring out the window resolutely, even though sometimes she _swears_ Alex turns to look at her, trying to catch her gaze.

They ride through the desert for so long that it’s almost dawn when Lucy instructs them to prepare for disembarking. While the darkness remains, Maggie looks up at the night sky, urged by the strain of spirituality in her that had somehow survived the erosion of her faith in organized religion. Despite the gunfire and terror that had befallen their little group in the past hours, the stars above remain unchanged, unmoved by the currents of human drama. Maggie finds that oddly comforting. No matter how Alex will feel about her by the end of this day, life would go on. Maggie could pick up the pieces, as she has many times before.

They file out of the vans in staggered order, when they reach the desert base. The camouflaged underground entrance looks markedly different to Maggie from that of the city headquarters. It’s an honest-to-goodness cave, hewn roughly out of the natural rock formations. Even though it’s a far cry from the polished futuristic architecture of the city headquarters, there’s still a comforting feel of power and fortitude in its build. When they head in, Agent Susan Vasquez is waiting for them, looking just as at home here as she had looked back at the city.

“I’ve got the briefing room prepared, and they’re setting up the contingency wards in the med bay right now, ma’am.” she says, addressing Lucy, as the group nears her.

Lucy nods, motioning Vasquez to fall in line with them, but the agent hesitates.

“The NCPD is here, ma’am.” she says. Her eyes flick to Maggie momentarily, before settling back on Lucy. “They insisted on accompanying us here. They’d like a meeting.”

“Of course they do.” Lucy sighs, after her first double take of surprise. She wipes a dirt-streaked hand over her face, before motioning to her second-in-command. “Donovan, can you direct the wounded to the medical bay through the side hallway, while I go deal with the NCPD?”

The addressed agent nods, and walks off the supervise the unloading of the transport vans. Maggie follows Lucy through the main entrance, hoping that when Vasquez had said the NCPD, she really meant-

“There you are.” Captain Rivera says, turning away from the console in front of which she had been pacing, and hurrying over to them. She’s flanked by two officers: Tyler, who gives Maggie a relieved-looking wave, and an officer Maggie recognizes as hailing from the Specialized Weapons division, who simply nods at her. Maggie nods back at the two of them, but the captain is bearing down on her before she can do anything further.

Lucy squares her shoulders as the captain nears, but Captain Rivera brushes past her to clasp a startled Maggie by the shoulders, squeezing tightly before stepping back.

“So you’re alive, at least, Sawyer.” she snaps out, all business-like, surveying Maggie. “Wouldn’t have known it, from the radio silence, but I’m glad.”

Maggie winces.

“Can’t believe you’re here.” she says in a low voice, aware of Lucy staring at them impatiently.

“I was worried when you didn’t check back in.” The captain says, taking in her bruised frame. “Clearly, I was right. What’s been going on?”

She directs this last question to Lucy, turning back to the DEO director as she does so.

“Recon mission.” Lucy says briefly. Tiredly. “Went rougher than expected.”

“That’s all you got for me?” Rivera asks. “Director, my officers have had to cordon off the entire warehouse district for the past twenty hours, because our patrol cars picked up gunshots, but we had a Do Not Engage request come in from your headquarters. It’s been hell dealing with all the public inquiries alone, and this is the best you can give me?”

Lucy runs a shaking hand through her hair.

“You can’t just walk into a secret government facility and demand answers.” she points out reasonably, and then sighs when the captain squares up too. “Nevermind, it’s probably good that you’re here. Now we can make sure everybody is debriefed at the same time.”

“What do you mean?” the captain asks.

“I mean that we’re going to need to organize fast, so any time saved is a bonus.” Lucy says, before smiling sharply. “We’re going to have a briefing in 30 minutes, after all the injured agents are looked after. I have a feeling you’re going to want to sit down for this, captain.”

\---

 

Maggie is herded into the DEO’s medical bay along with the rest of the mission agents, unceremoniously installed on a spare bed, and not allowed to leave until every injury has been poked and prodded at by one of the nurses on duty. Looking around at the fleet of doctors and nurses rushing to and fro, Maggie thinks that if she had found Alex to be exacting in her medical attentions, this must be where she had learnt it from.

When she’s finally released, and makes her way to the briefing room that Lucy had specified, the director is already there. She’s joined at the table by Vasquez, Captain Rivera, an assortment of DEO agents, the two NCPD officers and - Maggie tries to hide her double take - one Lena Luthor.

It makes sense, of course, she realizes. Lena has more than proved her loyalty at this point, and Maggie can’t fault Lucy for wanting to take full advantage of such an asset, even if Lena might not think of herself in those terms. Rationality, however, doesn’t stop Maggie’s guilt from acting up.

As Maggie takes her own seat beside Captain Rivera, it doesn’t escape her notice that Alex is missing from the table. She has, in fact, been missing since they had entered the desert base, when she had followed Kara into the med bay. Maggie is not particularly worried by that, and fully glad to put off the ramifications of Kara and Alex’s reconcilement for a little while longer. She does, however, find herself being anxious about M’gann’s similar absence, and resolves to seek her out as soon as the briefing is over.

This status quo, though, is soon upended when Alex and Kara march into the briefing room soon after Maggie settles in. The latter is in full superhero regalia, her cape flaring behind her as red as Alex’s bruised palms. Alex’s jaw is clenched, not exactly easing Maggie’s trepidation, as the duo take adjacent seats on the opposite side of the table.

Captain Rivera surveys Kara - _Supergirl_ \- with only mild surprise, before pronouncing her verdict.

“So the press got it right, for once.” she says, before turning to address Lucy at the head of the table. “She’s the real deal, I take it?”

Lucy turns surprised eyes to the captain, as does Maggie, and Kara, followed by a resigned sigh from Alex. It’s Vasquez who explains the captain’s cryptic statement, though, by flicking on one of the overhead flatscreens installed in the room. A little fiddling of the remote, and CatCo Worldwide’s news channel is echoing its broadcast around the room.

“-question remains whether this split-second glimpse captured is the real Supergirl, or yet another impostor.” the news anchor is saying.

Behind her is a rectangle of video, playing grainy footage: footage of a blurry figure in red and blue materializing in the air, before disappearing again, followed by a figure in all black doing the same.

“And who is her mysterious companion?” the news anchor continues.

Another click of the remote, and the screen flicks to a different channel.

“It has been more than a year since an imposter was last sighted.” the NBC early morning news host proclaims. “It’s still early, but sources are coming in that even people in the know are scratching their heads over this sudden reappearance-”

Another click.

“-forgetting the real problem here.” the Fox anchor is saying. “The president has already made clear his opinion on these _illegal_ vigilantes-”

“Turn it off.” Alex’s voice cuts through the blaring noise of the broadcast. “We get it.”

The screen is silenced with another click of the remote, and quiet descends around the table, as this new wrench in the works is absorbed by everyone in the room.

“We’ll have to deal with that soon.” Lucy says, breaking the silence. “But we’ve got more pressing matters to attend to, right now.”

Captain Rivera nods.

“Let’s get back to what you were saying about this Cadmus group.” she advises.

“We need to pursue them.” Lucy says, jaw set. “I think our recon mission showed us that we both underestimated them and unprepared for them, but we also can’t afford to wait too long to get ready to run them down.”

“We’ve got eyes stationed in a wide perimeter around the warehouse.” the captain says promptly. “They’ve got orders to observe, and tail if they see something, but not to engage.”

Lucy nods, not looking quite reassured.

“Somehow, I doubt we’ll catch anyone.” she says, “If what Danvers and Morse reported to me about their time as hostages is correct, Cadmus has adapted a lot more alien-origin technology than we’d hoped. I’ve got no doubt that camouflage devices are included in that.”

“We need to get back to the warehouse, then.” the captain says. “Even if they’ve disappeared by now, I can get a forensic team to swab the place down, see if we can find something useful.”

“It could be dangerous.” Lucy cautions.

“It’s not the first dangerous situation NCPD has faced.” Captain Rivera says. “I know we’re not as up to date as your lot when it comes to the technology involved, but scouting and forensics is something my team can pitch in on, while your agents recover and regroup.”

Kara - whom, Maggie realizes, she really needs to start thinking of as Supergirl, lest she end up blowing the superhero’s cover accidentally -  has been silent until now, but shifts at these words.

“Maybe I’ve got someone who can help.” she says confidently.

“The ghost speaks.” Captain Rivera murmurs wryly.

This causes Alex to shift in her seat, and Maggie to look down at the table and start studying it intently.

“What is it... Supergirl?” Lucy asks, before shots, literal or otherwise, can be fired from either ends of the table.

Lucy, more than the rest of them, seems to have pushed away all the weird revelations of the night before, in favor of dealing with the most pressing problem of Cadmus. Out of all the people at the table, it’s her that Maggie feels most aligned with right now, even putting her personal hesitations about Alex aside.

“I’ll need to call someone in.” Supergirl says, her confident persona flickering momentarily.

Lucy makes a wryly acceding gesture, Vasquez speaks into her comm, and moments later, a black-clad figure is striding into the room, carrying a feebly struggling man.

“Perhaps _he_ might clear up some of your confusion.” Astra says, throwing Maxwell Lord bodily into the surface of the conference table. Several agents snatch phones, tablets and coffee mugs out of the way, as he sprawls to the far end of the table, grunting in pain.

“Just letting him take a seat would have been fine.” Lucy says with a frown, dragging Lord off and depositing him into one, not very gently.

Maxwell Lord blows his ruffled hair out of his eyes, and surveys the entire room watching him. There are deep shadows under his eyes, shallow cuts mar his pale face, and his five-o-clock shadow isn’t so neat anymore.

“Agents.” he says, nodding amiably around the table, as if none of this signifies. “Officers. Ms. Luthor. Supergirl.”

There’s a hissing intake of breath from Alex at the last, but even that makes Lord’s smile falter only slightly.

“I found this one trying to run off, after I had finished fending off the other two goons that were with him.” Astra growls. “The rest of the building was empty of heartbeats, but I managed to stop him from fleeing with the rest.”

“And Metallo and Henshaw?” Supergirl asks.

“Escaped.” Astra’s lips twist, in anger at herself or at the men in question, it’s hard to parse. “They managed to tear apart my Kryptonite-deflecting suit, long enough for Metallo to do some damage. It bought them enough time to escape.”

She flips her hair, revealing a bleeding scar running jaggedly through the right side of her face, and another long scar disappearing into her black suit.

Lucy waves a hand in acknowledgment, and rounds back on Lord, while Supergirl fusses silently over Astra’s wounds.

“Speak.” Lucy tells Lord, enunciating the word into more syllables than Maggie had thought it capable of holding.

Lord shrugs.

“What is there to say?” he says, still in the conversational tone he had used to greet them with. “It looks like you all have things figured out already.”

“Either you walk.” Alex growls into frustrated silence. “Or I kill you. How’s that for figuring things out, Max?”

“ _No one_ is killing anyone.” Supergirl says, the sentiment echoed by Lucy at the same time.

“At the moment.” Lucy appends, when Lord’s smile, that had disappeared at Alex’s threat, returns in full force. “You’re a rich man, Mr. Lord, but even wealth can’t buy you out of charges of treason.”

 _Debatable,_ Maggie thinks, leaning in closer to study the man, which causes Lord to look at her curiously. She doesn’t think he would recognize her, although she had led many of the teams that had been called to deal with the fires and explosions at Lord Technologies factories, back when it had been stationed in National City. Her sparse interactions with him during those times had told her that Lord was simply not the kind of man to notice people like that, and it shows in the puzzled way he’s looking at her right now, as if wondering why this unfamiliar NCPD officer is butting in on an interrogation led by the director of the DEO.

“Was it the military contracts?” Maggie asks him abruptly.

Lord’s attitude, which until then had broadcasted that no line of questioning they took would be worth his time, seems to shift. Maggie is aware of puzzled glances being shot at her from around the table, although the pieces are clear enough to put together.

Luthor Industries had been dissolved when Lex Luthor ran for president. All those military contracts had been left hanging, and they had to go somewhere. Two years ago, around the same time that Maxwell Lord had gone underground, Lord Technologies had suddenly relocated to Metropolis. Metropolis, where the headquarters of Luthor Industries had once been located.

The pieces come together to build a dangerous picture, one that Maggie knows would be unwise to vocalize without further proof, but she asks Lord the abstract question regardless, wanting to see his reaction. The fact that he doesn’t look so sure of himself anymore tells her she might be on the right track.

“Does it matter whatever it was about?” Alex interrupts. “We have clear evidence of him colluding with a banned organization. If you really have questions, leave me alone in a cell with him for an hour, and you’ll get your answers.”

“No, she’s right.” a new voice joins in. All eyes turn to Lena, who had until then been silent, perhaps hoping to escape notice entirely. Now, though, her eyes are traversing between Maggie and Lord, as if gauging how much each one knows.

“I recognized the voice coming over the comms, the voice of your leader.” Lena continues, addressing Maxwell Lord. “What did my mother offer you, Max? _Was_ it her influence in getting you the military contracts? Was it shares in Thorul Labs? Access to our research? You know I can find out.”

Lord shrugs easily.

“If Lord Technologies is awarded any contracts, it would be more than justified.” he says, “Our security systems speak for themselves.”

“But a little currying of favor always smooths the way.” Lena retorts. “And so, you helped my mother.”

“I was helping to protect this country.” Lord corrects. “While you’re willing to work together with” - he waves at Astra - “people like her. Don’t  think I don’t recognize who she is, or that I forgot the damage her army did to National City.”

There’s an awkward silence in the aftermath of his pronouncement, not all the people at the table being in complete disagreement with his words. Then Lucy shakes her head, dispelling the limbo.

“Lock him up.” she says, with finality, and two agents rise from the table to act accordingly, marching Lord out of the room. “We can’t let him out until we know what we’re dealing with.”

“You know they’ll come for him.” Captain Rivera says, “If not for his own sake, then for the information he can give us.”

“Then, we have to strike before they do.” Lucy says simply.

“I can help.” Lena speaks again.

Her face looks composed to Maggie’s scrutiny, but the two Kryptonians at the opposite side of the table look at her oddly. Maggie remembers something that Alex had told her about Kryptonian super-hearing, and wonders if they can hear Lena’s heartbeat. Is that what they look so concerned about, the sound of her pulse galloping underneath that cold facade?

“I can trace movements in our family accounts.” Lena continues. “Transfers of money, locations that our research files were accessed from, rare production materials missing from our inventory, that sort of thing. There’s going to be trails, and I can track them down, no matter how hard my mother has tried to cover them up.”

“L - ...Ms. Luthor.” Supergirl looks troubled. “You’re already done so much, and come under fire for it. Are you sure-”

“Not as much as you all.” Lena cuts in briskly, looking around the table, before settling back on Kara. “And Supergirl, it was you that saved me, wasn’t it? During both times I was attacked? No, this is just me pulling my own weight.”

“I’m setting the NCPD forensics team loose in the warehouse this afternoon.” Captain Rivera speaks into the silence that follows, most likely taking mercy on Lena, who looks more self-conscious and embarrassed the longer they focus on her. “And I’ll get some of the officers on desk duty to pull up any previous case files we might have, in relation to potentially Cadmus-orchestrated alien disappearances.”

Lucy nods, and the captain leaves the room, already taking out her phone in anticipation of the calls to be made. The two NCPD officers follow her, leaving only Maggie behind to represent her force, as Lucy speaks again.

“I’m going to get a written briefing from Special Liaisons Danvers and Morse, about what they encountered during captivity.” she says, “We need every piece of intel we can get, on what technology Cadmus has got in their arsenal.”

Alex nods, although she doesn’t look very happy. Before Lucy can call the briefing to an end, Vasquez clears her throat quietly.

“There’s still the matter of the rescued aliens, ma’am.” she reminds Lucy. “The med bay doctors aren’t familiar with all their physiologies to offer more than basic treatment, and we still need to identify them, to begin the process of getting them back to their families.”

“We can help with that.” Supergirl says. “I ...I know an organization, that focuses on reintegrating alien refugees into society. Healthcare for the refugees is one of the services that they offer. You might have heard of it, director. It’s the one that Cat Grant was recently made one of the directors of.”

“Cat Grant?” Lucy’s eyes narrows. “So that’s what she’s been doing, since her pseudo-retirement?”

“She’s taking a break, not retirement.” comes the rapidfire, overly defensive reply from Supergirl, which makes Maggie smile, and makes Lucy eye the hero amusedly. “I mean- I’m just saying, the organization has got the certified medical experts who can help you.”

“Can I make a guess as to who started this organization?” Lucy asks quietly. Her eyes rest on Supergirl at first, before running meaningfully over the person sitting beside her. The blood-stained aunt. The one who Maxwell Lord had accused mere minutes ago.

“You.” Lucy says, “We’re supposed to believe that you’re willing to work for the DEO, after everything your army put us through?”

“Oh, I have no plans of working with the DEO.” Astra assures her helpfully. “I’m only here on behalf of her.”

She indicates the superhero next to her, eliciting an exasperated and long-suffering look from the latter.

“She’ll help.” Supergirl says firmly. “Please think it over, d - _Lucy_.”

“She terrorized us with Myriad.” Lucy points out.

“If I wanted to continue with Myriad, it would already have been implemented upon National City’s population.” Astra points out in turn. “None of my army has attacked you in the past months, have they? No, because they were disbanded. By me, and it was not a bloodless or easy task.”

“We just want to help.” Supergirl interrupts, presumably to cut off this argument in its infancy. “Please, Lucy, just think it over. The organization is willing to send over volunteer physicians and nurses, as soon as you give the word.”

“L Corp will donate enough to the organization to cover their time.” Lena offers, and smiles when Supergirl looks at her in some surprise. “You’re talking about the one that Kara Danvers works for, aren’t you? They’ve helped out L Corp a lot recently, in a partnership. Say hi to Kara for me, when you see her next.”

“Right.” Supergirl says awkwardly. “I’ll definitely tell Kara Danvers that. Yep.”

“Fine.” Lucy breathes out, exhaling a sound that’s half-laugh and half-sigh, as she witnesses the farce playing out before her. Eyeing her amused smile, Maggie wonders just how much the director knows. “We’ll work something out with this organization, Supergirl. I’ll let Susan handle that.”

Vasquez inclines her head in assent, as she thumbs something into her tablet.

“I can get a list of missing aliens from NCPD’s database.” Maggie offers. She keeps herself focused on Lucy, fully aware of Alex’s attention snapping to her, staring at Maggie just as intently as Maggie is avoiding the eye contact. “For cross-referencing purposes.”

“That _would_ help speed up the identification process.” Lucy says thoughtfully.

“I better go work that out with the captain.” Maggie says hurriedly, because now Alex is leaning forward, like she wants to say something, and Maggie is not ready to deal with that, not here.

She waits for the confirming nod from Lucy, before scraping her chair back and walking out from the room, willing herself not to rush, and aware every moment of Alex’s gaze burning into her back.

\---

 

When Maggie reaches the end of the hallway, Captain Rivera is standing there, still barking orders into her phone, so she turns towards the medical bay instead. Her anxiety over M’gann’s absence making itself known again, she badgers the nurses on duty until she’s led to a closed-off ward.

“Maggie!” M’gann says with a start, from her bedside seat, as Maggie walks in and closes the door softly behind her.

“Just wanted to see how you were doing.” Maggie says gently, her words punctuated by the door’s lock clicking into place.

M’gann has long shifted off the green alien form that she had assumed when defending herself against Cadmus operatives at the warehouse. In the soft light of the ward, with dark circles shadowing the brown skin under her eyes, she doesn’t like a superpowered alien that can read minds and teleport at will. She simply looks like a very tired woman, and it feels natural for Maggie to hurriedly cross the distance between them, and hug her friend.

“Thank you.” Maggie murmurs. Whether it’s for coming back alive, or for sticking around, or keeping Alex safe, she’s not sure, but M’gann’s arms tighten around her when she says it, and she sags a little, before pulling back.

“I’m not doing anything more than the rest of you have.” she says, echoing Lena Luthor’s words.

“Yeah, but this isn’t your job.” Maggie reminds her. Alex and her, they’re simply doing their jobs, and Lena seems compelled to make up for her family’s shortcomings, but what stake could M’gann possibly have in this?

M’gann, though, simply shakes her head and subsides into silence, watching the still figure on the bed.

“He’s still not awake?” Maggie asks, looking at the sleeping Martian on the bed.

M’gann shakes her head again.

“They’ve treated his wounds, but it’s like he’s shut down.” she says, looking troubled. “Like he retreated into himself, because of whatever they did to him.”

She trails a hovering hand just over the surface of the Martian’s face. Over _J’onn’s_ face, Maggie remembers, as Alex had called him. There is no response.

“I’ve been hoping I could help.” M’gann admits. “Reach out to him, somehow. Convince him that it’s safe to come back.”

Maggie nods, not trusting herself to speak, because it’s hard to imagine what Cadmus must have done to this alien, to make him flee into his own mind for protection. She had known, always, what a group like that is capable of, but to see the proof in front of her, is still jarring.

“I hope it works.” she says, voice raspy. “If anyone can help him, it’s you.”

“I don’t know about that.” M’gann says lightly, “I’ll do my best, though.”

Maggie squeezes her shoulders encouragingly, before her phone vibrates.

“Go on.” M’gann prompts, when Maggie pulls it out and reads Captain Rivera’s caller ID on the screen. “Do your thing.”

“Uh-huh.” Maggie says, shaking her head and reaching for the door handle, but her heart rests lighter nonetheless, at having assured herself of M’gann’s safety.

She leaves with every intention of finding the captain and volunteering to be part of the team headed for the warehouse, but Captain Rivera’s scowl as she approaches has Maggie hesitating.

“Checked in with your friend?” the captain asks, as she tucks her phone back into her belt.

Maggie nods, and the gesture is mirrored wryly by the woman opposite her.

“I need to be heading back to the station soon.” the captain says, before cocking her head back toward the briefing room, where Lucy is still holding court with a smaller group in attendance now. “You thinking about sticking around?”

“I was hoping to catch a ride back to the station with you, actually.” Maggie says, looking resolutely at the captain, and not at the gaze that is burning through the glass walls of the conference room at her.

The captain, no slouch, follows the path to the line of sight that Maggie is clearly avoiding.

“So that’s the renegade agent that’s been giving you so much trouble lately.” she states, her tone carefully colorless.

Maggie shrugs. She’s unable to trust herself with a proper answer, but the silence is too heavy to uphold, so she seeks to change the train of conversation instead.

“I was thinking I could join the team scoping out the warehouse.” she offers, eager to return to the familiar ground of good old-fashioned police work.

“Hell no.” The captain’s eyebrows incline so sharply downwards that they almost meet in the middle of her forehead. “You just came out of a hellish recon mission. You need to get some rest.”

She cuts off Maggie’s nascent protest with an outstretched hand.

“But, I know you won’t rest if I send you home.” she continues, glaring. “Which is why you’re coming back to the station with me.”

“Why?” Maggie asks, with a feeling of dread.

“Because those cold case files about missing aliens aren’t going to dig themselves up, Sawyer.” the captain says.

“No.” Maggie says, pleadingly.

“Yes.” The captain shoots back with grim satisfaction. “You’re on desk duty for the rest of the _week._ ”

\---

 

Three hours of mind-numbing paperwork later, Maggie finds herself running down a back alley, as a humanoid alien speeds away from her.

“Brian!” she calls out, gritting her teeth when the running strains her fresh injuries. “It’s just me!”

He keeps running. Maggie winces, braces herself and speeds up. She catches up to him by the end of the next block, reaching out a hand to grab him by his coat.

“Do we have to do this every single time?” she pants out, switching from the coat to an iron grip on his arm.

“I’m clean!” Brian blurts. “I promise, I haven’t been-”

“For fuck’s sake, Brian.” Maggie snaps, “If I wanted to bring you in for that, you know you’d have been at the station years ago.”

She moderates her tone when she takes in how nervous he looks, fully aware that it’s a generally warranted reaction, in such a situation.

“I just need some answers.” she says.

He looks even warier at that, of course. Maggie bites back a sigh of exasperation, and smoothes out her expression, before releasing him and stepping back.

“Your ex-girlfriend Lyra.” she starts, when he makes no further motions to flee. “The one who went missing.”

Now, Brian looks downright terrified.

“I told you, we broke up long before she disappeared!” he protests. “It was an amicable breakup!”

Maggie puts a hand to her temple.

“I know.” she says, eventually, when she feels herself capable of talking without snapping.

She hadn’t been the one handling that case, but she remembers enough details to know that Brian had been cleared after thorough investigation, just like every other remotely viable suspect in the case. It was as if Lyra Strayd, the Valerian victim in question, had simply vanished into thin air.

_Now, where have I heard that scenario before?_

“We couldn’t contact her family.” she reminds him. “There was no next of kin.”

“Um, yeah?” Brian laughs nervously. “Her family got caught up in the explosion that took out her home planet. That’s why she came here.”

His eyes are guileless, meeting hers steadily now, despite the show of nerves.

“Brian.” Maggie sighs. “Stop lying.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Brian replies with a gulp, stepping back.

Maggie doesn’t follow his retreat. Instead, she raises her hands peaceably.

“I think I might have a lead on where she disappeared off to, but I need more information to go on.”

“Look,” Brian says jerkily, “I don’t actually _know_ anything.”

Maggie pounces on that wording.

“Even if you think you might know something, I’d like to hear it.” she says, still keeping her distance.

“It’s just something I heard a long time ago.” Brian murmurs. “About a little brother she had, who escaped with her. A brother who went missing.”

Maggie waits, knowing full well she’d only spook him by saying anything.

“Listen, it was just bar talk.” Brian mumbles. “Something about him getting into trouble with the wrong crowd, owing money to the wrong person. Made no sense. People will say anything after a couple of glasses of Stragian whisky.”

“So, the brother?” Maggie prompts.

“She never mentioned one to me.” Brian says. “Maybe she was afraid of what would happen to him.”

“So her brother went missing, and she went looking for him.” Maggie surmises, “Before she disappeared too. That’s what you mean.”

Three guesses as to who the brother had owed money to. Maggie remembers Veronica Sinclair’s self-assured smile as she’d led her off in handcuffs, and thinks that she’ll only need one guess.

“I’m just telling you what I heard.” Brian says, shying back from confirmation. “She never said anything to me herself.”

Maggie sighs.

“Anything else?” she asks.

Brian shakes his head really fast, looking like a deer in headlights again.

“Fine.” Maggie waves him off, not missing the sigh of relief with which he makes his retreat.

She’s walking out of the alley somewhat gingerly, cognizant of her still-healing injuries. At first, she doesn’t register the figure leaning by a shop wall on the sidewalk of the main road, until a gentle waving of a coffee mug almost right under her nose rouses her attention.

Maggie’s heart rate speeds up along with her footsteps, as she looks up into Alex’s unreadable eyes, and then quickly back down. Thereafter, she focuses her eyes safely on the two cups of coffee held in Alex’s hands.

“Figured you could use one, after the all nighter.” Alex says, holding one of them out.

Maggie takes the offering, the moment marred by a brief tug of war when Alex refuses to let go of the cup until Maggie’s hand is curled fully around it, her fingers grazing Alex’s own.

“Thanks.” Maggie murmurs, as they fall into step, heading in the direction of the station.

“I thought you were supposed to be on desk duty.” Alex says.

“I thought you were supposed to be in confinement at the DEO.”

“I’m a Special Liaison to the DEO now, remember?” Alex asks, echoing the title that Lucy had referred to her with during the briefing. “And my first job was to check up on how your squad was doing with the cold case files.”

Maggie wonders if the title grates more than Alex is letting on. To go from a clearly senior agent to what’s practically a vanity position can’t be easy to swallow, even if Alex’s own actions had been part of what led to it. However Alex feels about it, or about being forced to work with the DEO again, no disgruntlement shows on her face.

“I’ve got guys still pulling files out, back at the station.” Maggie says, relenting.

“And you are?” Alex prompts.

“Tracking down some more leads about missing aliens that I think might have been orchestrated by Cadmus.” Maggie replies. “Trying to get in touch with their friends and family too, if I can.”

“To know where to return the victims, when we find them.” Alex says, nodding.

“Not just that.” Maggie says, as they turn into the street leading to the station.

It’s at times like this, that she can starkly see how working in an organization with supreme extrajudicial powers has shaped Alex’s way of thinking.

“I also mean that we’d need them to testify, if possible.” she continues. “If we ever get the Cadmus ringleaders to trial, that is.”

“A trial.” Alex’s voice twists around the word, like it’s something ugly. “You’ve seen what they’re capable of, Maggie.”

“Believe me, this is not the hill I want to die on, either.” Maggie says firmly. “But, we’re not dealing with some dispossessed alien that the DEO can just imprison without raising an outcry, here. We’re talking about a woman whose family has more power, influence, and wealth, than we can imagine. I don’t know what strings the DEO pulled to help us keep Veronica Sinclair behind bars for this long, but it’s going to be even harder to get a conviction to stick to Lillian Luthor, _if_ we even get a hold of her.”

“Prison’s too good for her.” Alex says, which is evocative of what her idea of justice looks like. She looks defensively at Maggie when she says that, as if expecting a contradiction.

She wouldn’t be getting one.

“Still...trials and testimonies...all that’s thinking a bit too far ahead, isn’t it?” Alex asks, after a while.

Maggie slows down as they reach the station.

“We might as well chase them down concurrently.” she argues. “You heard Lucy; we need to work fast on this. All of this.”

Alex nods, but she’s still frowning when they enter through the station doors. Maggie ducks behind desks and cabinets to avoid the notice - and subsequent wrath - of Captain Rivera, as she makes for her cubicle. It isn’t exactly effective, when she’s being followed by a tall and intimidating DEO agent dressed in all black, who’s making snide remarks about her height, and looking mildly amused at Maggie’s ordeal.

Her anxiety moderated by Alex’s apparent willingness to be lighthearted, Maggie lets down her guard long enough to take Alex through what she has compiled so far. She takes Alex through the records from NCPD that she’s already added to the list, along with an overview of case files that the other officers are still looking through.

“I’ve got requests out to LAPD and SFPD too.” she continues, pulling up another tab. “Just in case they’ve got more cases that they haven’t already sent over. Along with the other police departments I already checked in with this morning, that should have the whole state covered.”

Alex’s frown has returned as she talks, but Maggie continues, aware that they can keep this professional facade up only as long as she sticks to her task. Alex’s hand lands on hers, though, when she reaches for the keyboard to go down another tab, putting a premature end to this evasion tactic.

“Lucy may have sent me here to get a status update.” Alex says quietly, so quietly that she’s almost murmuring directly into Maggie’s ear. “But that’s not why I agreed to come here.”

Maggie wills her hands to still under Alex’s grasp.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Alex continues, still in that quiet, unparseable tone.

“Did you talk to Kara?” Maggie asks.

Alex’s answering nod is jerky.

“A little.” she appends. “There’s been a lot going on at the DEO all day. We didn’t get much time to ourselves.”

“How did it go?” Maggie pursues.

There’s a tense silence before Alex answers.

“Frustratingly.”

Maggie fights the urge to sag, but her shoulders incline downwards regardless, as she fixates on the keyboard. Alex delivers the killing strike.

“She told me that you knew.”

Maggie looks around. Suddenly, the station seems stifling.

“Break.” she says, standing up, and taking in a gulp of breath. She resolutely ignores the glare levelled at her from the open door of the captain’s office. “I like to go for a walk in the park sometimes, for my break.”

She heads for the door, fully aware of Alex following behind her, as closely as a shadow at noon.

\---

 

Resolving to shelve her anxieties, at least for the moment, Maggie looks around her at the park, breathing in the sunlight and - albeit not very fresh - air.

“Good to be back here.” she murmurs. After the dizzying events of the past few days, sitting at the desk had been making her antsy. Looking around the city bustling around them is invigorating, as well as a sobering reminder of what is at stake here, if they fail to pull off this mission properly. It’s something Maggie finds all too easy to forget, when caught up in cubicles and case files and conference rooms.

Or secret government facilities, Maggie appends, looking over Alex’s black clad form striding slightly in front of her. She’s in sweaters and slacks again, for this civilian jaunt, but looks no less intimidating for that.

“How are you feeling?” Maggie ventures to ask.

“She was gone and now she’s back.” Alex says tonelessly, slowing down so Maggie can reach her side. “I just have to accept that.”

She kicks aimlessly at a rock as she says this, seemingly absorbed in its trajectory through the grass. Her voice seems devoid of emotion, like she’s carefully controlling it to make it so.

“I thought you guys talked.” Maggie says.

“We did.” Alex replies. “It’s... just- I’m being asked to accept that my sister is alive after two years of thinking she was dead, and now she’s teaming up with a criminal, and I just have to be okay with all of this.”

“Have you told her any of this?” Maggie asks.

“I can’t just-” Alex stops, tucks her hair back from her face in a frustrated manner, and then seems to pause to think. “I can’t just say things like that to her, when I just got her back.”

“Sometimes, it’s better to be honest than to be gentle.” Maggie says, fully aware that she’s signing her own death warrant with those words.

Alex’s laugh is rough.

“It’s never really been like that, with me and my sister.” she says.

“Maybe it should be.” Maggie says, remembering Kara’s words at the hospital, of her believing that Alex would have a better life without her. “I don’t think Kara would prefer it otherwise, either, if she finds out what it’s doing to you.”

“What it’s doing to me.” Alex echoes, laughingly and disbelievingly.

Maggie shrugs, and drinks the rest of her rapidly-cooling coffee.

Alex is looking around herself too, as if with fresh eyes, like someone coming back to life all over again. The view from the park is beautiful, the city sprawling out in the valley below them. Even the tall buildings of the city centre are visible all the way from here, because of the elevation.

Alex’s gaze, though, seems to have been caught by something closer to home.

“My parents used to take me there, when I was young.” she says, pointing.

Maggie follows the outstretched hand, to the conservatory situated a few intersections down the main road.

“Every time one of them had to come down here for a conference, we’d go there.” Alex says. “After my dad ... after he... well, Mom didn’t like going there anymore.”

She looks wistful as she finishes.

“They closed early today.” Maggie offers, for lacking of something better to say, the subject of parents always having been an awkward point for her. “They always close early on Sundays, except in summer.”

Alex shrugs.

“I was just saying.” she says, her voice muffled when she passes her hand over her face, presumably to drive the hair back from it again.

Maggie studies her askance, before coming to an abrupt decision, and taking out her phone.

“Come on.” she says.

Alex looks puzzled, but Maggie is already heading out of the park, in the direction of the NCPD precinct’s parking lot, as she dials a number on her phone.

\---

 

A short phone conversation later, they’ve reached the parking lot, and Maggie ends the call to find Alex staring bemusedly at her.

“You know the director of the conservatory?” Alex asks, the expression on her face obviously wondering how such a non-intuitive connection could have been made.

“Did a favour to her once.” Maggie says. “Matter of some rare plants getting stolen.”

Alex’s eyebrows incline even further, and she just stands there staring, so Maggie pats the seat of her bike to get her attention.

“Are you coming?” she prompts. “The security guard is only going to let us in for a couple of hours max.”

Alex starts in surprise, before looking at the T100 with a somewhat haughty expression on her face.

“I don’t see your Ducati around anywhere.” Maggie forestalls her with a warning look.

Alex expressively gestures at her hand, the deep red gauges that Maggie had spotted on the palms now neatly hidden by dressing.

“I got a ride with Vasquez.” she says, “She had to go to the city hall anyways, to drop off some paperwork, so she gave me a ride.”

Maggie just taps her bike again and waits, until Alex picks up the spare helmet with a resigned look.

Alex gets her revenge a few minutes later, though, when they’re speeding down the main road a few minutes later. As Maggie takes a deep bend a little too fast, Alex’s arms tighten around her waist, and she tucks her face into Maggie’s hair, so that she’s almost nuzzling into her shoulder.

Maggie almost crashes the bike.

They arrive at the conservatory unscathed, though, a few minutes later. Alex heads in immediately, as if drawn by a magnet. Maggie follows at a more leisurely pace, drinking in the peace and solitude that envelops them, as soon as they cross the threshold of the main greenhouse.

Alex is immediately drawn to the section containing the more unusual specimens, the plants of alien origin and those developed through unusual grafting practices. Maggie follows her for a few minutes, listening to her self-addressed commentary. Soon, however, Alex grows silent, absorbed in reading the notes beside one of the cultivars, and Maggie finds her own attention caught by the shelves of bonsais in the far corner of the greenhouse.

She wanders over, especially curious of the cascading bonsais on display. They’re a style Maggie has always admired, perhaps her favorite out of the bonsai styles, but it’s one she’s had neither time nor apartment space to cultivate. She tends to stick to the easier uprights, but looking at a cascading juniper shaped so beautifully that it could have come out of a painting of a riverside, Maggie feels more compelled than ever to try something a little more involved.

A few minutes into her survey of the specimens on display, she’s crouching down to admire a particularly spectacular weeping white pine, when a voice interrupts her study.

“You have these at your place.”

Alex’s voice is quiet, but echoes pleasantly in the enclosed darkness of the greenhouse. Maggie gets to her feet and faces her, to see Alex pointing at an informal upright style ficus.

Maggie nods.

“They’re the easiest to grow.” she offers, tamping down the flutter in her stomach over the fact that Alex had _noticed._ “Pretty forgiving style to maintain, for a cop with irregular work hours.”

Alex nods, before looking down at the cascading white pine that Maggie had been studying.

“I’ve never seen that kind before.” she says.

“Probably because they’re one of the hardest to maintain.” says Maggie. She reaches out and traces an asymmetrical arc in the air, that mimics the downward curve of the pine’s trunk. “There’s a lot of wiring and rewiring of the trunk involved, to coax it into the right shape. Most people don’t have that kind of time on their hands.”

She knows that Alex’s interest in plants is mostly at the cellular level, but Alex’s doesn’t shift away or look bored, so Maggie finds herself continuing.

“They’re meant to be, like, similar to trees growing on cliffs and near bodies of water.” she murmurs. “Shaped by snow and falling rocks and rain and all that. Things that beat them down, but also shape them.”

Alex reaches down to tickle some of the leaves of the pine with her fingers.

“I like it.” is her simple response. “It’s beautiful, Maggie.”

Maggie looks up in surprise, and Alex shifts to face her. The movement has her standing close to Maggie, way too close, but she makes no move to retreat.

If Maggie were to step back, she’d be falling over plants in her haste to retreat. One step forward, and she’d be practically on top of Alex, she of the furrowed brows and confused expression.

“You’re still being all... distant.” Alex says, slight hurt now marring the look of concentrated confusion. “Are you still scared of me? I thought we were past that.”

“Scared and wary are two different things.” Maggie retorts by instinct, her professional pride rankled, before biting her tongue and pulling up short, because that’s not what this is about, of course not.

Whatever they might have started out as, they haven’t stayed that way. They haven’t been that way for a long time now.

“It’s not that.” she says, when Alex’s expression calcifies in that mask of hurt. “Fear is the last thing on my mind right now, Alex.”

_Unless it’s fear of losing you._

“So what is it?” Alex asks in frustration.

“You don’t have to lie to me to make me feel better.” Maggie tells her quietly. “If there’s one thing we’ve learned in our time together so far, isn’t it that we should be more open about what we’re thinking about each other?”

Alex looks like she’s been pulled up short, looking at Maggie with wide eyes.

“I didn’t tell you.” Maggie bites out. “About Kara, I mean. I never told you.”

“I’m not angry about that.” Alex says, looking confused again.

“Aren’t you?”

“I’m not!”

“Alex.” Maggie says wearily, “Don’t pull this with me. The whole shutting down your emotions thing. It doesn’t work out, in the end. I should know, seeing as I’m a master at it.”

“Fine!” Alex hisses, stepping back, retreating away from the plants, as if she’s being suffocated by the proximity. “I’m angry.”

Maggie follows her at a distance, as Alex stumbles back into one of the glass walls.

“I’m so fucking angry at everyone who kept this from me.” Alex spits out. “I’m angry that my sister thinks so little of me that she kept this from me for so long. And I hate feeling guilty about feeling this way, because I should be happy she’s back, but I want to punch a wall when I think about all the months I thought she was dead!”

Maggie moves closer, unsure if comfort is wanted, but ready to give it.

Alex is staring down at her hands. The gauze that hides the cuts on her palm is not so pristine a white anymore, streaked by the dirt of the greenhouse. Slumped there, looking defeated, she doesn’t look the least bit terrifying. Just sad.

“But, I could never be angry at you over it, Maggie.”

This part is uttered in a low voice, that slices neatly through the silence nevertheless. When Maggie dares to move closer, Alex reaches out for her with the wounded hands, the roughness of the gauze a pleasant contrast to the cold smoothness of her unwrapped fingertips.

“Kara told me that you tried to get her to tell me.” she mumbles, shifting in closer.

Maggie attempts a shrug, which only ends with Alex clasping her hands tighter.

“If you hadn’t tracked her down.” she starts. “If you hadn’t forced her hand, maybe I’d still be out on the streets, not giving a damn what happened to me.”

“No.” Maggie says, “It wasn’t like that. I was just doing what anyone would do, Alex. I should still have told you earlier.”

Alex shakes her head.

“You brought my family back to me.” She says. Her voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, then reshapes itself so quickly that Maggie almost thinks she imagined the faltering. “Not just Kara, but J’onn too. How could I ever be angry at you for that?”

It’s wrong. It’s not supposed to be this easy. Nothing in her life has ever worked out this simply for Maggie. It’s hard for her to believe it, to let down her guard and accept that this is not going to turn into a fight, as it had so many times before.

“What?” she says, head shooting up, aware that Alex has been saying something for the past while, that Maggie had missed while digesting her earlier words.

“I said here.” Alex says, dropping something into her palm.

Maggie holds it up to the light, to see the bottle opener that she had lent Alex, looking much worse for wear.

“You brought it back.” she says unnecessarily, and then, “What have you been doing to it?”

“It saved my life.” Alex says, smiling. “It got me and M’gann out.”

Maggie studies her pleased face as she tucks the opener away, wondering what the hell she’s going on about. Alex just waves her hands, though, like that’s a story for another day.

“Thanks.” Alex says, after a while.

When Maggie opens her mouth to protest again, she waves a hand around them to stall her.

“For all this, I mean.”

She gestures around them again, cheeks slightly rosy, and a full smile on her face.

“I mean, getting me private entry into this place, just because I remembered it from my childhood?” she asks. “How much cheesier can you get?”

Maggie exhales a soft sigh and looks down, suddenly shy. A finger on her chin tilts her head back up.

“No one’s done something like that for me.” Alex admits. “Like, ever.”

“Yeah, well.” Maggie says, articulation fleeing her, upon seeing the vulnerable expression on Alex’s face. “You’re no slouch yourself.”

Considering Alex had literally been ready to take a bullet for her more than once, Maggie isn’t sure why this trip to a conservatory seems to be such a big deal, but she’d gladly do it again a hundred times more, to see Alex smiling this big again.

This time, when Alex steps forward, Maggie doesn’t retreat. She tilts her head up to meet the advance, but hesitates at the last moment.

“The security guard.” she reminds Alex, as the distance between them is closed, the words muffled by the first brush of Alex’s lips against hers.

“He’s gone.” Alex murmurs, nipping at her lips, each kiss so brief and soft that Maggie’s memory of the sensation is all muddled up in a haze of want. “I checked.”

Maggie finds herself pressed back with each successive kiss, so that her back soon meets the glass wall, Alex’s body hovering before her.

“Come on, Maggie, I’ve been waiting-”

She breaks off, and looks down at Maggie, wide-eyed and hesitant, as if unsure how to proceed. That single gesture, out of everything that’s gone down so far, tears away every last inhibition Maggie has remaining about this.

She flips their positions. It’s _easy_ , Alex practically lets her do it, but Maggie doesn’t go easy. She backs Alex up until she has her pressed against the wall instead, before she speaks.

“Waiting for what?” she asks, voice rough.

Alex just stares down at her, flushed. Her elevated breath, and the throaty sounds she’s making as Maggie pins her, is travelling straight down Maggie’s body, leaving it practically vibrating.

“What?” she repeats, adjusting her grip on Alex’s sweater.

Alex swallows.

“This.” she says in a whisper, tilting her head down to indicate their bodies pressed together.

The strained word makes the tendons of her neck stand out, so Maggie starts pressing kisses down the length of it, light and soft, almost inquiring. This elicits a murmur of uncertainty from Alex, so Maggie decides to shift tactics. She seeks out Alex’s mouth instead, sealing their lips together. She kisses her slowly, starting with light brushes similar to what Alex had initiated earlier. When Alex responds by pressing more eagerly against her, Maggie breaks away long enough run her tongue over her lips. She lets out a sigh of her own, when Alex cradles the back of her neck in response, and presses them closer together. When Maggie goes back to their chaste kisses, Alex lets out a noise of impatience and grabs her face instead, pulling her into an open-mouthed kiss. The kiss is heated, and thoroughly lacking in finesse, and Maggie is pretty sure they’re both going to end up with bruises all over their lips, from overeager bites and awkward angles. It’s also mind-blowing, and feels so fucking good once they figure it out, Alex’s single-minded attention lighting her up in a way that Maggie hasn’t felt in a _long_ time. It has Maggie arching up into Alex’s hips, and moaning into her mouth, despite her initial intention of being the one to call the shots in this.

And then, they’re suddenly breaking apart and Alex is falling back against the wall, panting for air, her sweater crumpled from Maggie’s iron grip on it.

Maggie, missing the contact, allows them only moments of reprieve before seeing out Alex’s mouth again, which the other meets eagerly. They kiss more languidly this time, and Maggie relaxes her grip to run a lazy hand down Alex’s body, over her sweater. She merely moves her fingers in oval motions over the fabric, trying to get Alex used to the intimate touch before pursuing anything deeper. Alex is bolder, running half-shaking fingers down Maggie’s bare shoulders, dipping lower, down to the very edge of her v-neck. She brushes the sensitive line of skin there, between clavicle and breast, questing fingers leaving trails of want in their wake. It feels good, so good that the sensation is almost too much too soon for Maggie to stand, and she’s glad when Alex’s hands move further down, sliding to a brief rest around her stomach.

“Is this what you wanted?” Maggie asks in a murmur, when they break apart for air again. She punctuates the words with brief kisses, feeling the vibration of Alex’s responding hums against her mouth.

“Uh-huh.” is what Alex manages, and Maggie can’t help but grin against her mouth, at the fact that she’s reduced DEO Special Liaison Agent Scientist Doctor Alex Danvers to this state of incoherency.

She parts from Alex’s mouth to return to the flushed column of neck that had enticed her so earlier. This time, Alex seems ready, inclining her back against the wall to give Maggie better access. She releases soft murmurs of satisfaction as Maggie kisses down her neck, and ends up moaning when Maggie sucks softly on the sensitive area where neck meets shoulder. When she moves further down, trailing her tongue across a straining clavicle, Alex shudders, and pulls her back up to kiss her on the mouth again.

“Was that ok?” Maggie asks, during a break in the kiss.

“So okay.” Alex says fervently, before moving in again, making Maggie smile.

The next few minutes are a haze of breathless kisses, getting deeper and bolder, as the two of them get more used to moving with and reading each other. Maggie hazards her first venture under Alex’s sweater, hands tiptoeing around the hem of it, playing with the skin there, while Alex runs obsessive fingers through her hair, tugging on the strands in a way that’s heady and a little needy and just _right_.

It’s so good and Maggie should have figured it out from that, should have known it was _too_ good, because just as she’s palming her way up Alex’s stomach, thumbs brushing against the base of her bra, a loud vibration breaks through through their heavy breathing.

There’s a moment when both of them keep going, neither seemingly willing to stop. But the damn phone keeps vibrating, buzzing as one alert comes in after another, and eventually Maggie forces herself to break away.

“It’s not mine.” she pants out, after a quick check into her pockets.

“I know.” Alex says, looking disappointed and disgruntled in a way that’s both adorable and completely gratifying.

When Alex flicks open her phone and reads down the successive messages, though, her expression quickly turns grave again.

“It’s Lucy.” she says, looking back up at Maggie. “J’onn’s awake. I need to get there right now.”

“I’ll take you.” Maggie says immediately, fishing out her keys before hesitating. “Unless you don’t want me to- I mean, if Vasquez can pick you up-”

“No, I do.” Alex assures her. “Want you there, I mean. But we need to get there right now.”

She doesn’t explain the reason for her hurry, until they’re down the expressway and speeding their way out of the city.

“General Samuel Lane is there too.”

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End in sight now, we got a chapter count n everything.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed this one. Thanks for continuing to read this!!!
> 
> *shuffles awkwardly out*


	11. Chapter 11

**Maggie**

Maggie speeds through the highway as fast as she dares at this time of night. Even if she doesn’t properly understand the nature of the threat that this General Lane proposes, Alex’s tone and Lucy’s urgent summons tell her that every minute counts. She can feel Alex clutching her tightly around the middle as she guns the bike, but can’t even enjoy the feel of that, when every part of her is focused on the road.

They have only just crossed the city limits into the lone road leading out to the desert, though, when Maggie finds her attention caught by someone standing by the roadside. She pulls over to a sharp stop when she recognizes the waving figure, absentmindedly registering Alex’s fingers fisting into her shirt in surprise.

“M’gann!”

“Sorry.” M’gann says without preamble, hurrying over to their abrupt stop. “I just thought you might want to get there faster.”

“What do you mean?” Maggie asks, alert.

M’gann doesn’t immediately reply, but no sooner than Maggie has taken off her helmet does she feel the Martian’s arms gripping her waist with one hand, and Alex’s with the other.

“I’ll come back for your bike, Maggie.” M’gann says, “But, I think both of you will want to be at the DEO as fast as you can. Things are not looking good right now. General Lane is on the warpath, and Lucy is just barely holding him off.”

Beside Maggie, Alex nods. She looks impatient to get going, so Maggie follows suit. At her nod, there’s a slight breeze, and suddenly they’re in the underground parking lot of the DEO.

Maggie tumbles out of M’gann grasp, trying to get her bearings, while Alex lets out a slightly awed puff of breath from beside her.

“That was...wow, that was different.” Alex says.

She seems eager to ask M’gann a million questions about what had just happened to them. Her expression sobers, though, as they all take in the very distinctive vehicles now crowding the parking lot.

“I’m going to guess that when you said _General_ Lane, you weren’t talking about a vanity title.” Maggie remarks, looking at the small group of humvees that had caught her attention.

Though she counts no more than ten of the vehicles, they seem somehow to dwarf their surroundings. Staring at them, Maggie remembers a throwaway remark that Vasquez had made to her during an earlier visit to the DEO.

“The four-star general with a stick up his ass.” she says out loud, remembering.

A snort seems to escape Alex despite her best efforts, and even M’gann smiles.

“You know him?” Alex asks incredulously.

“No.” Maggie says. “That is just about all I have heard about him.”

That, and the part he had played in Kara’s death, she belatedly remembers, realizing now why Alex had been in such a rush to get here.

“That’s all you _need_ to know.” Alex grumbles. “That, and the fact that he looks at aliens like they’re about to take over America every time they sneeze.”

“Ah.” Maggie says. “And now I know what we’re dealing with.”

“Come along.” M’gann urges them.

Alex, though, is already striding forward grimly, as if knowing exactly where in the DEO she would find the source of this new discord. Maggie follows her, as she bypasses several briefing rooms and office spaces, to burst into a large open workspace that mimics the one Maggie remembers from the city headquarters.

The tableau that greets them, when Alex throws the doors open, is a disquieting as any situation that Maggie has found herself in. On one side is the general, a man of middling height and build. He is flanked by an array of soldiers in fatigues. Their poses are casual, almost lounging, but their guns are a threat all by themselves. Silent for now, but not cowed.

And facing General Lane, on the opposite side, is a disparate group. They are headed by Lucy, who is staring down her father. Behind her are alert-looking DEO agents, as well as a couple of NCPD officers that had been loaned out to help with the data sifting. At the back, there is Supergirl, who seems to be standing in front of someone, as if shielding them from General Lane’s gaze. It takes a while for Maggie to recognize that it is Astra she is shielding. Astra, whose face looks pale and shadowed and rigid. Maggie suspects that might pass as being terrified, for her, and wonders why a human general should elicit such a reaction out of a nigh-invulnerable Kryptonian. As Maggie watches them, M’gann joins the two, so that all three aliens in the place are hidden behind the first row of DEO agents and NCPD officers.

Maggie takes all this in with one quick glance, before returning her gaze to the front, to assess the face-off of Lane vs. Lane. Lucy looks furious, almost spitting her words out, but General Lane is simply frowning and looking exasperated, as if humoring a child’s arguments. Watching them, and feeling Alex tense beside her at General Lane’s dismissive attitude, Maggie’s doesn’t quite know what she expects Alex to do. Raise hell, because her family has been threatened? Demand that Lane get the fuck out right now?

Alex simply nods to Lucy when she gets the latter’s attention, and goes to stand slightly behind her, joining the row of DEO agents facing the intruders. With no better option in mind, Maggie follows suit. However this goes down, they would face it side by side.

“That Martian is our prisoner.” General Lane is saying now, enunciating each word to Lucy in an exasperated way. Maggie gets the feeling that he has been repeating that phrase for a while now. “We have the right to bring him to trial.”

“You didn’t even know he was alive until today, General.” Lucy says, her expression conflicted and stormy. “You just left him locked up and abandoned.”

“He was to be tried for treason.” Lane says.

“But instead, your neglect saw him carted off to a torture cell!” Lucy shoots back, “Don’t you see that we have bigger things to be worrying about? That is a security breach at an unprecedented level!”

“His ...experience, doesn’t negate what he did!” the general blusters, conveniently ignoring the last part of her statement.

Maggie has no doubt that he knows exactly what Lucy is implying, but that he is also ignoring it for the sake of furthering his argument. Her unease increases, realizing that for all his bluster, this is not a man to be taken lightly.

“No.” Lucy says now. “Maybe it doesn’t, but that’s what the DEO is for. It’s _our_ mandate to oversee extraterrestrials active on Earth soil, not the military’s.”

“And those two?” Lane points behind Lucy to the huddled group of aliens, his gaze now fixed on Supergirl and Astra. “Is aiding and abetting a known terrorist part of the DEO’s mandate, too? Or protecting the woman who went rogue and tried to destroy National City? How is she even alive?”

“They’ve been working with the DEO, and providing us with good intel.” Lucy parries. “As will J’onn. We need to find out what we’re fighting, and we need their help to do that.”

“If I had anything to say about the _DEO_ making use of alien help-” Lane starts, looking murderous.

“But you don’t.” Lucy says flatly. “I do.”

“You were only made Director at my recommendation, Lucy.”

Maggie sees a flinch pass over Lucy’s face at that remark, but she recovers quickly.

“Regardless of how or why I was made director, I take this job seriously.” Lucy says. “My priority here is stopping the organization that is encroaching on DEO’s mandate. It is _not_ letting you arrest a man who has just recovered from brutal torture.”

“You want to go against me, then?” Lane says. He pulls himself up, and though he is not particularly tall, he towers over his diminutive daughter.

“I’m not.” Lucy says. “I’m saying that we all have bigger enemies to worry about, general.”

General Lane looks frustrated that she won’t rise to his bait.

“Stand down, _dad._ ” Lucy says softly. “This isn’t a fight we need to have.”

But oh, the general doesn’t see it that way, it is plain to Maggie. She’s known men like him, and she knows that he sees this as a loss, _his_ loss. His eyes rove around the room, looking for some way to reassert his power, and address the perceived imbalance.

“You.” he barks out, pointing at the only human civilian in the room.

Lena Luthor meets his address with a critically unbothered look. Maggie, though, has figured out enough of the woman by now to know that the more emotionless she looks, the more impacted she is. And right now, Lena’s face is practically a mask. A bloodless, tight-lipped mask.

“You brought a civilian in here.” General Lane informs Lucy. “Not just any civilian, but _her.”_

“Her life was in danger.” Lucy says, “I acted accordingly.”

“You think she’s not in danger here?” Lane retorts. “The President’s sister, cooped up with all the alien criminals that you insisted on locking up in here? What were you thinking?”

“I’m fine here.” Lena interrupts, her tone just as cold as her face, and dismissive to boot. “You’ll find that I’ve had quite some experience in being cooped up with monsters.”

Her deliberately careless tone only seems to inflame Lane to further heights of bluster.

“Nonsense!” he says, “Your brother will be worried about you, Ms. Luthor. We’ll make sure you get home safe.”

At a nod from him, the soldiers move towards Lena. Maggie sees both Lucy and Alex step forward, beaten to the punch by Supergirl, and knows that this is going to go south really fast. Even General Lane can’t ignore the DEO’s mandated authority over alien hostiles, but Lena is a human. While Lucy has managed to walk a fine line with Lane so far, opposing him in this would grant him exactly the pretext he is looking for.

Without really thinking about it, Maggie steps in the path of the advancing soldiers, before the other three women can try something. The guns that had made her so uneasy earlier, are trained on her immediately, the movement mechanical rather than personal. These soldiers might have no animosity against her, but Maggie knows that won’t stop them from carrying out their general’s orders. Not unless she thinks fast.

“Ms. Luthor is working with the NCPD to solve a series of high profile attacks in National City.” she says hurriedly, rattling off the first thing that comes to her mind.

“Who are you?” Lane is looking at her like Maggie is a wall decoration that suddenly started talking.

“Maggie Sawyer, NCPD.” Maggie says, before adding an afterthought. “Sir.”

“And you’ve got a say in this?” The question is skeptical, maybe even a little mocking.

“Ms. Luthor is a special consultant for the NCPD’s Science Division.” Maggie says, hoping against hope that Captain Rivera will cover her ass on this one, if General Lane decides to actually follow up on that. “She’s here with me, to see if we can get any insight into a string of alien-related attacks that have been escalating in National City... sir.”

She holds her breath when she finishes. The general’s face looks downright murderous, but at least his soldiers have stopped their advance, and are looking back at their leader for further instructions.

“Fine.” Lane breathes out, looking no less furious as he turns back to his daughter. “Fine... but you can’t keep this to yourself for much longer, Lucy, jurisdiction or not.”

“I’m not trying to hog anything, dad.” Lucy sighs. “I’m just trying to do the job that I was assigned to do.”

And then, blessedly, the guns are retreating from Maggie’s vicinity, and her heart is coming down from the gallop it had been running at.

Lane throws his weight around for a while longer, but Lucy handles him adroitly, humouring his ego without giving into his demands. Watching her, Maggie feels a curious sense of empathy, knowing that Lucy’s skill at handling the man probably comes from years of trying to maneuver around him. Maggie has long ago accepted that her draw in life had been pretty rough. Looking at Lucy, who seems to have drawn the exact opposite set of cards, she can’t help thinking that’s no picnic either. The truth of it shows in the way that Lucy’s shoulders sag almost as soon as the general leaves the room.

When Lucy turns back to them, though, there’s no trace of weakness remaining.

“Well, go back to your stations!” she instructs the DEO agents. “Full speed on the work ahead, remember.”

As the assorted crowded disperses, Maggie turns to follow Alex, who’s making her way over to Supergirl. She has taken all of two steps, before she’s arrested by a hand on her wrist. She turns to find Lena Luthor regarding her, with a look that’s slightly less mask-like than before.

“Thanks.” Lena says quietly. “For doing that back there.”

Maggie shrugs embarrassed.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the least of what I... we... owe you.” she says.

A slight smile comes over Lena’s face, cracking the mask open.

“Considering you got five guns pointed at your chest over it, let’s call it even.” she suggests, before nodding her head cordially, and moving away.

Maggie can’t help smiling at her before she turns away, though, and when she walks back to Alex, it’s with a lighter step.

Alex is listening attentively to something Supergirl is saying, as Maggie approaches. Gathered around them are Lucy, and a handful of DEO agents.

“General Lane was right on one point.” Supergirl is saying. “We can’t keep this to ourselves for much longer, especially if word gets out that Max Lord has disappeared.”

“What are you saying, Supergirl?” Lucy asks, looking exhausted.

Supergirl looks nervous.

“I know you’re used to flying under the radar.” she says. “But, even the DEO can’t keep something like this completely quiet. Not when we’ve got Lillian _Luthor_ working together with the CEO of Lord Technologies and the heiress to Sinclair holdings, in a secret illegal organization.”

“You’d be surprised at how easily that would go over.” Lucy says with ironic humour, before her face turns serious again. “What is your suggestion?”

“Well,” Supergirl says, “I don’t have any concrete suggestions. But I know a couple of people who do.”

Lucy scowls.

“Am I going to have to hire the entire population of National City as special consultants, by the end of this operation?” she asks, with some exasperation.

“Not everyone in National City.” Supergirl says, before mumbling, “Just the First Lady of it.”

“I’m not even going to ask what that means.” Lucy says, massaging her forehead. “But, if your contact is willing to sign, in triplicate, the NDI form that Pam from HR draws up, I’m willing to hear what they have to say.”

\---

 

Forty-five minutes, and brief spat over NDA forms later, Maggie is treated to the sight of Cat Grant parading the length of the DEO control room, with James Olsen by her side.

“This can’t just go through the CatCo channels, of course.” Cat says. “We’re going to have to work with every other reputable news outlet out there to break this. Nothing can be printed until every source is checked, double-checked, and triple-checked. A single inaccuracy is all it would take for a story like this to be torn apart.”

She rattles off a list of names, appended with contact information, that makes Maggie’s overworked head spin, but James merely raises a peaceable head at the end of Cat’s diction.

“Already drafted the emails to send over to them, on my way over here.” he says. “I had a feeling we’d need to work fast on this. And I added a couple of contacts of my own to hit up. I think we’ll need their input on this.”

“ _But_ , we can’t let a word get out to general public, until we have vetted proof.” Cat says, swivelling back to the little group watching her. “That’s where you lot come in.”

“We’re working on it.” Lucy says, looking physically pained at the idea of having to give even the smallest bit of information away to the press.

Maggie can’t say that she doesn’t sympathize. Even if she agrees that Supergirl has the right idea in this, the idea of willingly sharing the details of a secret operation with National City’s own media mogul is making her skin crawl with apprehension.

Cat Grant, though, merely seems impatient with their dawdling.

“And of course,” she presses. “We’ll have to talk the political angle into account.”

“The political angle?” Lucy echoes, dazedly.

“The President will do everything in his power to get his mother out of this, of course.” Cat says, as if it were obvious. “We’re going to need to put enough pressure on him to keep out of this.”

“Sure.” Lucy still sounds half-dazed, but manages to inject some sarcasm into her words. “Let me just pull him up on my speed dial. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“No need.” Cat says breezily. “I have Olivia’s personal number. Oh, and I guess I should give Miranda a call, too. She’s not sympathetic towards aliens, in the way that Olivia is, but she’ll _hate_ the idea of an organization acting explicitly against government orders, like Cadmus has.”

Kara’s smile grows as wide as Lucy’s eyes, when these words are rolled out as casually as if Cat is giving her order at a diner.

“Who are Olivia and Miranda?” Lucy asks with some confusion, before the light dawns. “Do you mean Senators Olivia Marsdin and Miranda Crane?”

Cat nods impatiently.

“Luthor might be president,” she says, “But Olivia’s party effectively controls the Senate. If we can convince her that our cause is just, she can pressure him enough to at least stay out of it. She’ll want to see concrete proof, though. She always was a stickler like that.”

“We’re working on it.” Lucy repeats, before relenting. “I’ll send you over a report of what we’ve uncovered so far. Classified, mind you.”

“Then, James and I will start setting things into motion on our end.” Cat says with satisfaction, sharing a confident nod with with James.

She looks back at the shell-shocked faces of the DEO agents staring at her, finds the lone proud and smiling face, and replies with an angelic smile of her own.

“Well, Supergirl.” she says. “That little break was fun, but it _is_ nice getting back into the swing of things, isn’t it?”

\---

 

When Cat and Lucy disappear into Lucy’s office to go over the finer details of what Cat would be given access to, Maggie notices James Olsen hanging back, and making his way towards Supergirl instead.

Maggie watches Supergirl greet him with effusive warmth, though checked by the awareness that they’re in a very public space, surrounded by agents trained in detecting the near-undetectable. Just as she goes in for a hug, though, Alex steps in between the two, her eyes dangerously narrowed.

“So he knew, too?” She demands, “ _And_ Cat Grant? Did the whole world know except me?”

“Alex-” Supergirl begins, raising a conciliatory hand, only to be cut off by a hissing intake of breath.

“No.” Alex growls. “You don’t get to pull that tone. Not right now.”

“I was just-” Supergirl starts again, pointing hastily in some vague direction, as if something awaits doing there.

“Nope.” Alex says firmly. “The only thing you’ll be just doing, is having a talk with me. _Right now._ ”

They head down another hallway, the furious DEO agent striding ahead of a chastened-looking Kryptonian. Despite the comical tableau, Maggie feels a spike of worry over their impending confrontation. Not for herself, this time, but for them. It would be bitter to have Alex’s family as broken and fractured as her own, when Alex had just regained it.

“Maggie.” a quiet voice speaks from next to her, cutting off the morbid arc of her thoughts.

She turns to survey a M’gann that looks even more exhausted than when Maggie had previously checked up on her. M’gann forestalls her, though, when Maggie opens her mouth to say something about it.

“I brought your bike back.” she says, pointing behind her in the general direction of the exit.

Maggie nods absentmindedly, still distracted by the exhaustion clear on her friend’s face.

“You did it.” she says proudly, addressing the root cause of that weariness. “You woke the Martian up. You convinced him to come back.”

M’gann nods, not looking as happy as she ought to.

“He’s still recovering.” she says. “The physical injuries aren’t going to heal overnight.”

“Still.” Maggie persists. “What you did was awesome, M’gann. Have you talked to him?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” M’gann hedges, looking away from Maggie. “He has a lot of catching up to do, and he doesn’t even know me.”

“Okay.” Maggie draws out, a little concerned, but knowing full well that it’s not really her decision to make.

She had just thought M’gann would like to befriend the one remaining member of her culture that she had found.

“I have to get going.” M’gann says. “Darla says she’s been getting a lot of help from Alex’s boys in running the bar, but I still need to go back and give them a break.”

“Okay.” Maggie repeats, frowning. “Get some rest, too, though. I’ll see you again soon?”

M’gann smiles, but she’s also moving around restlessly.

“Well, since Lucy has hired me on as an ad-hoc consultant until we finish Cadmus off, you’ll be seeing me sooner than you think.” she says, and then continues to fidget, clearly eager to be off.

“Fine.” Maggie relents. “Just... just take care.”

She lets her friend go after a brief hug. Her worry over M’gann phasing in her tired state is alleviated when she sees Astra join her en route to the exit, the Kryptonian wrapping an arm around the Martian and clearly offering to fly her home.

With that distraction out of the way, Maggie finds herself once more worried about how Alex and Kara are doing. She turns unconsciously back to the hallway that the Danvers sisters had disappeared down, although she makes no motion to follow.

Christ, when had her life gotten this complicated?

\---

 

**Alex**

Alex feels anger and frustration practically emitting from herself in waves, as she stalks off down the hallway with Kara. Her combative mood isn’t improved by Kara’s obvious attempt to temper it. When her sister pauses mid-stride. and nods towards a vending machine stacked with drinks, Alex snaps out a brusque negative and moves on, even though she’s parched. When Kara tries to make light conversation, she replies with curt one-word answers. When Kara heads towards the first unoccupied meeting room they encounter - a rarity in the DEO at the moment - Alex just shakes her head and keeps going.

“Alex!” Kara calls after her, as she forges on, past the last of the meeting rooms. “Alex, you’re going too far. There’s nothing beyond there but the -”

“Training rooms.” Alex finishes, with satisfaction, as she sister catches up with her.

She unlocks the door of a familiar one, continuing to speak over her shoulder as she does so.

“I’m surprised that Lucy still keeps this one functional. Or, did she know you were alive, too?”

“Of course not!” Kara says. “Alex, you’re being-”

“Don’t say unreasonable.” Alex says, walking into the glass-walled area in the middle of the room, and thumbing at the green bars affixed to the edges. “Just ... don’t.”

Kara stares at her for a few moments, before shrugging and following her into the room.

“Fine.” she says, “You want to do it like this?”

Alex looks back before she turns the Kryptonite emitters on, but the only expressions on Kara’s face are determination, and faint exasperation. Alex thumbs the green bars up a quarter of the way, just enough to level the playing field, but not enough to cause pain.

“Yeah.” she says. “I guess I do.”

“Fine.” Kara repeats, carefully tucking her cape around her waist as she steps back towards one corner of the dome. It’s not a caution that Alex has ever seen her take before.

And then the bars flare green, and they’re off. Fists striking out. Arms parrying blows with a furious frenzy, neither sister willing to give quarter, or go easy on the other. Kara is a little stronger, but Alex has wiry agility on her side. She catches a blow, staggers back, but before Kara can deliver a more debilitating strike, she’s jackknifing up, sweeping out a kick, and they’re at it again.

Alex _loves_ it. Just for now, just for this moment here, they can be themselves again. Just the Danvers Sisters, unmarred by two years of grief and loss.

Then, it happens. Alex deflects a strike, as cleanly as she always does, and spins around, ready to throw Kara off balance from the force of her own blow. She almost manages it, but at the last moment, there is Kara’s hand at her neck, perilously close to the vulnerable hollow of her throat. A quick strike, and down goes Alex, slamming into the ground.

Kara immediately kneels down to check on her, concern evident on her face. Alex feigns injury until her sister is close enough, then reaches out and quickly shoves Kara off-balance. Kara goes down with an even more resounding slam.

“Ok, that was playing dirty.” Kara complains, getting up and dusting herself off with additional muttered grumbles.

“I never fight fair.” Alex retorts, on her feet again, fists ready to take whatever punch Kara’s got coming. “And I learned some new tricks on the street.”

“That’s big talk for someone I almost just wiped the floor with.” Kara says, striking out faster than Alex remembers her doing so before, even though the Kryptonite is definitely affecting her.

It’s not superspeed. Kara is just faster now. Better.

So is Alex, fortunately.

“And what about you?” she parries, deflecting the punch easily and trying a sideways kick at Kara’s shin. “That thing with the throat? I didn’t teach you that, and J’onn sure as hell didn’t.”

“No.” Kara replies, retreating after sidestepping the kick. “It wasn’t you who taught me that.”

The fight seems to drain out of her all of a sudden, from whatever she sees on Alex’s face in response to her reply.

“Alex, do we have to do this?”

She sounds pleading, and Alex doesn’t want to hear it. She wants to keep raging, keep fighting, maybe scream until the maelstrom of emotions within her can be sorted out into something manageable. But she also knows, deep down, that this endless fighting isn’t going to make that happen.

“How come you didn’t tell me?” she asks, lowering her fists and stepping back. The question comes out quiet and insecure, rather than angry like she had meant it to.

Kara’s replying sigh is mournful.

“I told you.” she says, “I was afraid you didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

Alex shakes her head, wanting to disbelieve the words, although logic won’t allow her that mercy. Why had she been stupid enough to ask this damn question, again?

Because, she realizes, some part of her had been hoping for a different answer this time. Had wanted an answer that didn’t end up with Alex being found wanting again.

“So that really is what you think of me.” she says.

Intractable. Unforgiving. Remorseless.

All things that Alex has been guilty of, at one time or another, but not in connection with her sister. She had been willing to give up her life for Kara. But that, apparently, is not adequate proof of her dedication.

Story of her life, really. Pushing herself to her limits in school, taking every AP course that could be fit into her schedule, only to be bested by a superhuman that didn’t even _try_ . Hours of training in the DEO, familiarizing herself with every weapon known to humanity, and it’s useless compared to the photonucleic effect of a yellow star on Kryptonian cells. Years of thinking of Kara as her sister, as her _family_ , only to be bested by ties of blood that Alex couldn’t lay claim to. Story. Of. Her. Fucking. Life.

“ _No,_ Alex.” Kara interrupts, perhaps understanding what she’s thinking by the expression on Alex’s face. “I was wrong, don’t you see? I was so wrong, and I’m sorry.”

“Uh-huh.” Alex says skeptically. “Still doesn’t change the fact that you thought I was like that.”

“No.” Kara says again, emphatically this time. “It was _me_ who was like that, and I was projecting my own feelings onto you. I just wish I had realized that sooner.”

Alex thinks about it for a while, until something clicks.

“When I killed Astra.” she says. “You’re talking about the way you felt then. About what you said to me, when you were under the red kryptonite.”

“I was so angry.” Kara whispers. “I felt so betrayed. And I just, I thought you’d feel that way about Eliza, of course. How could you want anything to do with me, after what I did to her?”

“I can’t-” Alex says, before stopping, unable to continue right away because of all the emotions clogging up her throat. “I can’t be that way, Kara.”

“I know.” Kara says miserably. “I should have known. You’ve never been like me, Alex. I should have _known._ ”

Alex looks down, unsure of how to respond to that.

“So much for stronger together, huh?” Kara mumbles out, some moments later. “I can’t believe I forgot the one thing I’ve got left to remind me of my family.”

_I’m your family._

“I’m sorry.” Kara repeats.

She moves forward, to the empty space in the ring between them, encroaching the middle ground.

“Alex, I swear, I thought about you every day since I woke up from my coma. The first thing I did, when I could move again, was find out what happened to you. I may have been afraid to show myself to you, but I never forgot about you. I never will.”

The ground is blurring. Alex realizes that she’s crying. Great, now she’s going to have to burn every copy of the security camera tapes from this room, and then threaten the guard on duty for good measure. But one look at Kara’s wrecked face, and she’s off again, tears redoubling.

“Alex.” Kara sounds fond and worried at the same time.

For a few moments, she seems unsure of how to react, before throwing caution to the wind and hurrying over to the corner of the ring where Alex is standing, middle ground be damned.

“I’m here. I’m here now.”

“You suck.” Alex gets out, in between sobs. “I _missed_ you.”

It isn’t anything she hasn’t said before, and it can’t possibly encompass all her feelings of grief and loss from the past months, but she doesn’t feel capable of anything more nuanced, right now.

“I know.” Kara whispers, holding her and rubbing comforting circles into her back. “Me too, Alex.”

“I almost killed your family.” Alex says, sobs redoubling.

“ _You’re_ my family.” Kara echoes, more conviction packed into those three words than in an entire TED talk.

She leans back to survey Alex, and Alex looks up to follow her movement.

“I never wore this.” Kara says, self-consciously gesturing down at her Supergirl uniform. “After I woke up, I mean.”

“You had it on when you saved me.” Alex says, vague memories coming back to her, confirming suspicions that she’d already had. “Twice.”

“Because it was _you_.” Kara says, nodding. “I can’t be Supergirl without you.”

“Cut it out.” Alex says, eyes going back to wipe fresh tears from her face.

“Crybaby.” Kara says fondly.

Alex reaches forward and clings to her, and she knows they’re going to be okay. They’re the Danvers Sisters, and they’ll make it through this.

“Besides,” Kara says, and she sounds a little teasing when she steps back, “You’ve been taken good care of, in these past few months. Soooo... Maggie Sawyer, huh?”

Alex is unable to contain the small smile that instinctively rises to her lips.

“You noticed.” she states ruefully.

“Hard not to, actually.” Kara says, making a face.

“Hey!” Alex says, affronted.

“I’m your sister.” Kara says, holding her hands up. “I’m contractually obligated to pull stunts like this.”

It sounds a little scripted, though. Too normal too soon, as if Kara is saying what she’s supposed to say, rather than how she actually feels.

“ _Kara_.” Alex sighs. “You don’t have to. I know this is new to you. It’s new for me, too.”

Kara is watching her carefully.

“I figured it was.” she says, after a while. “You never said anything about liking girls-”

“About being gay.” Alex interrupts, because if they’re going to do this, she wants the record straight from the start.

“I mean, you never said anything about being gay, before.” Kara corrects herself. “Still, I want to know, Alex. I want to learn. And I want to get to know Maggie better, too.”

Alex nods, feeling immensely relieved. Which is odd, because the question of what Kara would think of Maggie has never really entered her head until this very moment. Still... approval is better than the opposite, all things considered.

When Kara reaches out and squeezes her hands one final time, Alex remembers that there are other things to be attended to.

“J’onn!” she says, “We need to go see him. The doctor will have cleared him for visitors by now.”

“You go.” Kara says. “I snuck in for a visit when Lucy was stalling General Lane. The _first_ thing he asked me was how you were doing, teacher’s pet.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Alex grumbles. “I get the hint, I’m going.”

“Uh-huh.” Kara says, but when Alex goes to turn off the kryptonite emitters, she reaches out a hand to stall her.

When Alex turns back in surprise, her sister hugs her. Despite the kryptonite considerably lowering her strength, it’s still a full-on rib-cracking hug, squeezing every last bit of breath out of Alex. Alex holds back just as tight, though, until Kara releases her and retreats.

“I missed doing that.” Kara says with overbright eyes, before she shakes her head and makes a shooing motion at Alex. “Ok, now go. Go!”

\---

 

When Alex steps softly into J’onn’s ward, she realizes too late that Lucy is already there, talking to J’onn in a low murmur.

“-so sorry, J’onn, but I’d never let him take you away.” Lucy is saying, before she pauses and turns around, looking startled to see Alex there.

Alex stops in her tracks, knowing that the polite thing to do would be to leave and come back later. Her feet, though, seem rooted to the ground, unable to move away from the sight of her mentor sitting up in bed, looking alive and alert for all his exhaustion.

“I should go.” Alex says belatedly, “I’ll come back later.”

“No.” J’onn says, and his calm voice is a shock to Alex’s system, after so many months of its absence. “Stay, Alex. It’s good to see you again.”

When Alex walks over and takes a seat next to Lucy by the bed, J’onn surveys them both gravely. Then, suddenly, his eyes twinkle with amusement.

“I leave you lot alone for two years,” he says, “And all this happens.”

Alex’s breath exhales all in a rush, and she reaches out for him, needing proof that J’onn J’onzz really is back, and alive, and well. J’onn squeezes her outstretched hand reassuringly, and pats Lucy on the arm, too, as he does so.

“Well done, you two.” he says unexpectedly.

He smiles when both of them look at him in surprise.

“You made it out of a very bad situation with minimal casualties.” he says, “I’m proud of you both.”

“But, we failed.” Lucy says, before Alex can voice a similar protest. Her voice dips. “We wouldn’t have been in that situation at all, if I’d given directions to prepare better for the mission. _I_ failed.”

“You learned.” J’onn says, before chuckling slightly. “And you did get me out. I must say I’m quite good with that part.”

He’s trying to put a good face on it, Alex can see, but she still can’t help but feel more secure after his reassurances. Whatever is in store for them, at least they’ll face it together.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Lucy says quietly. “I’m sure Susan has some reports waiting for me to look over.”

Alex spares only a glance at her leaving, too preoccupied otherwise. When she looks back at J’onn, he’s regarding her with a slightly more open expression than before.

“Welcome back, sir.” Alex says, smiling widely at him.

“Don’t let General Lane catch you calling me that.” J’onn advises. “But, it’s good to be back.”

Alex goes in for a hug, one that is tight but brief, so that neither of them is embarrassed when she pulls back.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t exactly the best situation for you to be coming back to.”

“Well, I never imagined it was going to be a cakewalk.” J’onn says. “But, we’ll get through it.”

Alex nods, trying to feel as confident as she looks. The weird thing is, it’s getting easier to believe that with every passing day. She feels like she’s been drowning in herself and her grief for several months, and now finally she’s climbing out of that pit of despair. She’s got hope now, and a family, and things to lose. As terrifying as this new reality is, she feels ready to fight with every last breath to keep it afloat.

“Now,” J’onn starts, some sense of urgency returning to his voice. “Help me out, Alex. I know bits and pieces, but I need to get my head straight about what’s been happening around here since I left.”

Alex smiles again.

“You better strap in for this one, sir.”

She takes him through the details for the better part of two hours. When her voice breaks while recounting the fallout from Kara’s supposed death, J’onn pretends not to notice. When she unflinchingly lays out the details of her own detraction from the DEO, he doesn’t look at her with judgment. He simply listens, his face uncharacteristically open with understanding. A couple of times, when Alex needs to pause to take a breather, he each reaches out to pat her knee.

When Alex finishes, her voice is hoarse and there are unshed tears in her eyes. Just as she’s winding down her account, a soft light suffuses the ward, as the partitioning curtain is pulled apart.

It’s Maggie, standing with her hand still on the curtain. She’s not quite shuffling, but she looks just self-conscious enough that Alex immediately feels protective.

“I just wanted to say goodbye before I head out.” Maggie murmurs, from the doorway. She seems unsure of stepping forward any further. “Catch you later, Danvers.”

She nods at Alex, before turning to leave, but Alex isn’t having it. Wordlessly, she strides over and pulls Maggie back, bringing her to J’onn.

“J’onn, meet Maggie.” she says, more breathless than she should be from that brief exertion.

She considers adding on a qualifier to that introduction, such as that Maggie is from the NCPD, or that she’s working with them on the Cadmus case. It seems important, though, to leave that out for this first meeting.

Maggie looks adorably uncertain when greeting J’onn, all cockiness gone from her manner. For his part, J’onn’s replying smile is startlingly warm, if lowkey. Alex thinks that it may be his way of trying to put Maggie at ease, and that idea makes her more content than she can vocalize.

“You’re a friend of M’gann’s.” J’onn says to Maggie. “She’s the one who saved me.”

Maggie shrugs, looking less bashful now.

“Yeah, she’s pretty great.” she says. “She had to head back to her bar, though.”

“She left?” J’onn asks, disappointment evident on his face. “I had hoped - ah, well, nevermind.”

“If you want,” Maggie ventures, “I can give you the address to her bar? I’d have to check in with her first, though.”

“I would like that.” J’onn says, sitting back in his bed, eyes already drooping with weariness. “Thank you, detective.”

Maggie nods, before looking back at Alex.

“You need rest.” Alex tells J’onn, but his eyes are closed now, and she isn’t surprised to get no reply.

“Come on.” she says, turning back to Maggie. “Let’s leave him to it.”

When they walk out, though, and Maggie starts heading in the direction of the exit, Alex catches her hand.

“It’s late.” she says, frowning at the idea of Maggie traversing the desert alone on her bike. “Stay for the night.”

Maggie looks unsure, but Alex grips her hand for tightly, and tugs her down a hallway in the opposite direction. She means to lead Maggie to one of the meeting rooms that are more out of the way, and thus less likely to be occupied or noisy. However, as she turns a corner and walks past a row of staff offices, a faded label on a familiar door catches her attention.

_A. Danvers_

Suddenly, Alex finds her throat a little tight.

“What is it?” Maggie asks, before following her gaze, at which point understanding comes over her face.

“That used to be my office.” Alex mumbles.

It had been _tiny_ , more of a storage closet than a proper working space. Alex had rarely spent much time there, being usually out on missions or at the lab. Still, some nights when she was working overtime, it had been nice to be holed up in there, stealing some time for herself away from all the noise and furor of the DEO proper.

“They haven’t assigned it to anyone else.” she says, voice rough. Two years of absence, and that door still bears her name.

When she slides her access card in, the door still opens. The room looks exactly as she had left it. There isn’t even a coating of dust on the few pieces of furniture, courtesy of the DEO’s exacting custodians. Alex almost feels like she’s stepping into a time machine, when she ushers Maggie in and flicks on the light.

“It won’t be very comfortable.” she says, gesturing around at the small space and carpeted floor. “But, at least no one will bother you, and it’s really quiet down here.”

“It’s perfect.” Maggie replies, smiling.

She tilts her head and studies Alex, that faint smile still on her face.

“What?” Alex asks, unable to break away from that sustained eye contact.

“You staying?” Maggie asks, and there’s something in her voice that has Alex’s heart rate picking up.

“I-” Alex starts, stops, swallows, and then starts again. “I just have to go and check in with Lucy, first. She asked me to come see her for a status briefing.”

Maggie nods affably, turning away to take off her jacket. Alex redirects her own gaze to the door real fast, then. Lucy. Briefing. _Focus, idiot._

“Ok, come back soon.” is all Maggie says, while looking around for a place to hang up her jacket.

“Uh-huh.” Alex manages, as she heads to the exit, absolutely refusing to let herself linger too much on the memory of Maggie in that tight shirt she wore under her jacket.

What the fuck was she supposed to be doing, again? Oh, right. _Briefs._ No! Briefing. _Focus, Danvers._

Shaking her head at herself, she heads towards the control room.

\---

 

When Alex enters the control room, Lucy is fiddling with a very familiar piece of technology.

“That’s Kara’s AI program.” Alex says, hurrying over.

Instead of the familiar hologram of Alura that Alex had integrated into a special room for Kara, the now-unlatched database is displaying multiple holographic screens in the air. Lucy seems to be looking over them, frowning at whatever she’s seeing in the information displayed.

“How did you get it to work like this? Alex asks.

“Kara got the idea to use it to research what Cadmus might have in store for us.” Lucy says. “And it turned out Astra knew how to manipulate the display code.”

She waves at the screens in front of her.

“Call me a grandma when it comes to this high-tech stuff, but I think standard browsers screens take the cake when it comes to crunching massive amounts of data, no matter how pretty holographic women spouting information may be.”

“But what are you working on?” Alex asks, walking over to peruse the screens of blocky Kryptonian writing, which are superimposed with automatic English translations, and accompanied by pictures.

“Right now, I asked Astra to access every weapon catalogued in the database.” Lucy says, “If Cadmus is adapting alien technology to fight us, what better to consult than the alien database that has catalogued information on every planet and star system?”

“But the Kryptonians accumulated knowledge from all 28 known galaxies.” Alex says, “We’re talking about millions of records.”

Now that she knows what she’s looking at, she can pick out some of the names and pictures on display, as weapons that she’s familiar with. Most of the records, though, are totally unfamiliar. Some of them are even entirely... well, _alien_ to her understanding of what a weapon should look like.

“I know.” Lucy says. “The amount of hits we got is massive, but we have to sift through them somehow. We have Lena’s inside knowledge of Luthor Industries to help us map out what earth-origin technology they’ll be using. Aside from the field data you gathered, though, we’re totally in the dark about what alien technology they’ve adapted. We _need_ to be better prepared than last time.”

“So, we have to narrow down this information to the weapons and technology that they’re most likely to be using.” Alex surmises. “And then, we have to devise effective countermeasures against them.”

Lucy nods.

“We can eliminate a large percentage just by weeding out technology that Earth’s infrastructure is incapable of sustaining.” she says. “That still leaves us with a huge haystack to sift through.”

Alex nods absentmindedly, mind suddenly going into overdrive, as Lucy’s remarks sparks an idea in her head.

“Did Lena send over the list she was compiling, of the production inventory that was missing from her records?”

“She’s still working her way through those records.” Lucy says, “She’s already sent the most obvious outliers over. They’re mostly large amounts of raw material written off as being issued to R&D, without adequate follow up documentation to account for their use.”

“Ok, we can work with that, for a start.” Alex says, mind still working furiously. “If I can write a special query program that interfaces with this database-”

“What did you have in mind?” Lucy asks with some curiosity, before shaking her head. “Nevermind, you know what, I don’t need the details. I’m putting you in charge of this project. Get Winn - he’s even faster at coding than you - and a couple of other agents, and work together with Lena Luthor on this.”

“I’m the lead?” Alex asks quietly.

“You heard me.” Lucy says. “And you know what’s at stake, if we don’t get results fast.”

 _So don’t mess up._ Alex hears the unspoken command.

“Why me?” she persists.

“Let’s not, Danvers.” Lucy sighs, putting up a protesting hand. “You’re smart, you can do the work, and I need someone smart to do the work. End of story.”

“You kept my office.” Alex says. “After two years, my access card still works.”

“There are other rooms to use.” Lucy says dismissively.

Alex just stares at her until she relents.

“Remember that time when we had to go out to Opal City, to fight the Terranian hostiles wreaking havoc there, in their underground hideouts?” Lucy asks her. “It was barely a month after my dad arrested J’onn, and had me appointed as director.”

“What about it?” Alex asks sharply, looking away.

“You hated me, then.” Lucy reminds her.

Alex scowls, unwilling to deny it. _Of course_ she had hated Lucy. It wasn’t like General Lane had been around or accessible, for her to take her anger out on.

“You hated me.” Lucy says, sounding reminiscent, “But, when the Terranian we were hunting caused a cave-down while we were still in his tunnel, you still pulled Agent Cooper and me to safety.”

Alex scowls again.

“We were part of the same team.” she says. “I wouldn’t have let you die.”

“Right.” Lucy says, nodding. “You hated me, you never hid that fact, but you still did your job, and got us out of there.”

“Because you were part of my team.” Alex repeats.

And now you’re part of mine.” Lucy says firmly. “It’s like J’onn says, right? Stronger together.”

“Stronger together.” Alex echoes mechanically, a little puzzled.

She wonders if Kara would like that, the words of her house, being passed on like this, even if Lucy likely has no idea where the phrase really originated from.

Strange, that something as ephemeral as an idea should have outlived the death of a planet.

\---

 

**Maggie**

Maggie has just finished lugging out the sleeping cot she had unearthed from the cupboard in Alex’s office, and spread it out on the meagre floor space, when the door opens again and Alex steps in.

“Hey.” Maggie says, feeling inordinately pleased to see her back so soon. “Sorry, I found this cot on the bottom shelf, and helped myself. Figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Alex’s eyes flicker to the cot on the floor in some surprise, before she blinks.

“Oh, right.” she says. “I bought that after the second week in a row that I had to work overtime here. I can’t believe they haven’t thrown it out yet.”

Maggie shakes her head, and laughs.

“What?” Alex asks, taking a step towards her, looking both pleased and curious.

“I just can’t believe that I met someone who’s more of a workaholic than me.” Maggie says, snorting.

She sobers up when she realizes that Alex’s smile is quickly fading away at those words.

“Hey, Danvers. What’s wrong?”

Alex looks around and exhales a shaky breath, before speaking.

“I was just talking to Lucy about all the preparation we’ve got ahead of ourselves, for facing Cadmus.”

“Yeah?” Maggie ventures carefully, stepping closer.

“It’s just, there’s so much to be done.” Alex says. “The DEO has faced and taken down hostile organizations before, but nothing on this large a scale.”

“You have to.” Maggie says. “ _We_ have to. And, we will.”

Alex’s eyes are haunted. It’s so quiet in the room that Maggie can hear the sobs catching in her ragged breath.

“I can’t forget it.” Alex says. “I walked into that room and saw General Lane strutting around like he owned the place, and I was right back to where it all started two years ago.”

Maggie shifts even closer, wrapping an arm around Alex’s waist and tucking her face into the crook of her shoulder.

“It’ll be different this time.” she says, squeezing tight. “We handled General Lane. We can handle Cadmus, too.”

Alex just lets out a ragged sigh, and runs her fingers through Maggie’s hair, absentmindedly teasing through the strands like she’s been doing it all her life. Maggie holds her a while longer, until her breathing turns more regular, before stepping back and heading for the door. She turns back and smiles reassuringly, when Alex utters a sound of protest.

“We both need to clear our heads of what’s been going on.” she says, flicking down the light switch that she had been reaching for. “A good night’s sleep is what we need.”

When she goes to check the door, a hand reaches past her and slides the lock shut. She turns around, and faces Alex, who is so close now that her breath is unfurling around Maggie’s hair, sending strands flying.

“Sleep wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.” Alex admits, hovering just in front of her, like a nervous shadow at noon.

Her face is composed. When Maggie presses her against the door, though, and reaches down to link their hands together, she can feel Alex’s fingers tapping out a trembling beat against her palm.

Resisting the urge to press tighter and stifle the shaking, Maggie runs her free hand through Alex’s hair instead. Her fingers sift through the smooth locks like through water, sliding down to the surface of Alex’s cheeks. Maggie takes her time tracking down the angles and planes of them, before moving further down to cradle the sharper curve of jaw. By the time she has moved on to trailing fingers down the column of Alex’s neck, and across the curves of her shoulder, she feels hands settle around her own waist. Alex’s grip is steady and strong now, thumbs teasing up the hem of Maggie’s shirt to rub circles on the skin underneath.

“I don’t need sleep.” Alex says, looking only a little bashful. “I need you.”

That’s all the encouragement Maggie needs to reach up and press her lips against Alex’s. There isn’t any preamble this time. Maggie licks against the seam of her lips, and Alex opens to her at once, fisting a hand into Maggie’s hair to draw her in closer. Maggie licks into her, tongue sliding over the roof of Alex’s mouth, spurred on by the sounds that she’s eliciting.

She’s willing to leave it at that, totally willing to press Alex against the door and just do this for hours, listening to the soft sighs and moans that are uttered against her lips. Alex, though, seems to have other plans.

When she speeds up the pace, Maggie lets her. The kisses turn from languid to quick and frantic, punctuated by deep intakes of breath. There are teeth and lips against neck, rough bites one second, smoothed over by a hot tongue the next. There are fingers fisting in Maggie’s hair, coiling and uncoiling strands with a steady pressure that’s just right. And there’s Alex murmuring something now, half-incoherent because it’s muffled by her lips pressing obsessively over Maggie’s skin, as if determined to leave their mark on every exposed inch of it.

They’re moving faster than Maggie had planned, but Alex is almost frantic in her attentions, and she is willing to lose herself in the thrill of it, too, giving as good as she gets. When Alex’s fingers dig into her back, Maggie pushes her harder against the wall, their mouths seeking out one another again. When Alex rakes needy fingers through her hair, Maggie trails them down the side of her body in turn, digging in with blunt nails just forcefully enough to have Alex break apart and hiss out a breath.

The sound of her ragged breathing is heady, and spurs Maggie to press kisses down the curve of her jaw. She’s aware of Alex making more sounds, and then there are hands digging into the back of her thighs. There’s a sharp flare of pressure, followed by a sharper flare of desire, as Maggie realizes what Alex is doing. She leans back, letting herself be lifted, and wraps her fingers around Alex’s neck while she moves them. When Alex finishes lifting her onto the desk in the middle of the room, Maggie keeps her legs wrapped around her hips, squeezing her closer. Their mouths meet again, elevated in their attentions by the heightened intimacy of their position.

Maggie is so intent on letting Alex be the one to call the shots and set the pace, that she doesn’t realize until then that maybe something is wrong. Passion is one thing, but Alex is touching her like this is their last time together, and her renewed murmurs against Maggie’s skin seem almost mournful.

“Alex.” Maggie gets out, leaning back when she realizes this.

When Alex’s questing mouth follows her, eyes still half-closed, Maggie pulls back further, unwrapping her legs from around Alex. It’s maybe the hardest thing she’s done in a long time.

“ _Alex.”_

“Yeah?” Alex says finally, as if being slowly pulled back to reality. Her eyes open fully, the expression in them turning insecure as she does so. “Was that... was that not good?”

Maggie takes her time answering, teasing through her thoughts to get at what’s really bothering her.

“No, that’s not it.” she answers. “Another time, I’d really enjoy this.”

She can feel her face flushing at just how much she would enjoy it, but Alex is still looking insecure and confused. So, Maggie forges on.

“It’s just, something felt off.” she says, “It kind of felt like you were... like you were thinking that this was the last time you got to do this.”

Alex’s face falls, and Maggie hastens to soften her words.

“I mean,” she says, reaching up to run her fingers through Alex’s hair again, slowly this time, “You know that we’re going to do this again, right? You and me, this is going to happen again.”

She can feel insecurity seeping into her own voice, too, when she says that, but Alex just looks more wretched.

“Today.” Alex whispers. “Today, you stepped in front of General Lane’s soldiers.”

Her eyes squeeze shut, as if avoiding the memory, and her next words are barely audible.

“I just got my family back, and then there you were, in the line of fire again.”

“Alex, I had to do that.” Maggie says, “It’s-”

“Your job, I know.” Alex says. “I just... for the longest time, I just had my own life to worry about, and it didn’t mean much to me. Now, I have people to care about again, and it’s terrifying to think that I almost lost you.”

Maggie shakes her head. She understands, of course she does. It’s terrifying to think of Alex being in danger, and the hostage situation had almost driven Maggie out of her mind with worry. But, she’s also not willing to let this, their first night together, be marred by their anxieties about what could have happened. She’s wasted far too many years of her life in regret already, and she’s willing to bet that Alex has too.

With that in mind, Maggie guides Alex’s hands up, linking them with her own, and holding them up in the space between their bodies.

“Ssh.” she says, when Alex opens her mouth. “Feel that?”

In the night, with deep silence enveloping them, Alex seems to be holding her breath as well as her tongue. Her eyes light up, as she feels what Maggie is feeling: the beat of Maggie’s pulse against her fingertips, just as Maggie can hear Alex’s pulse beating against hers.

“I feel it.” Alex says, fingers shifting to press into the crook of Maggie’s palm, where the beat is strongest.

“That’s me.” Maggie says. “And you. And we’re not over yet, Danvers.”

They’ve been rushed from place to place so often in the past few months, putting out one fire after another, and Maggie feels so relieved to be here now instead, basking in this restful silence. It feels like, for once, she’s at peace. There’s nothing rushing them. Even the impending fight with Cadmus seems distanced from this unshakeable reality of heartbeat against fingertip. Fights, and terror, and even wars, are unavoidable in their line of work. But they end. Even wars end.

This thing between them, though, can go on forever, if they let it. In the long run, Maggie realizes, this is what matters. Not who didn’t love her, but who did. Not who left her, but who stayed.

“Hey.” she says again.

“Yeah?” Alex asks quietly, watching her slide down from the table.

Maggie motions her to the cot. When Alex lies down on it, expectant, Maggie just watches her lying there for a moment, taking in the beautiful sight, before she follows her down. When she presses her body down on Alex, she can feel her shaking, and can hear the fabric of the worn blanket crumple, as Alex’s fingers fist into it.

Maggie kisses her softly this time, running the tip of her tongue over a trembling upper lip, before taking the lower one into her mouth. She can feel Alex’s hands come up to thread through her hair again, pressing her down closer. Maggie sighs her approval at the electrifying contact into Alex’s mouth. She kisses Alex for what feels like an infinite measure of time, getting lost in sighs and murmurs and the languid sliding of tongues and lips.

When they finally separate, Alex is breathing hard, and her eyes are fluttering open and shut. When Maggie reaches down again, Alex holds her back for a moment, to prop herself up. Speechless, Maggie watches as the sweater she’s wearing is hastily removed, and then the bra. Both hit the side of table, as Alex tosses them away, before lying back down.

Maggie skims her hand up the exposed skin, trailing wondering fingers over the beautiful, scarred expanse, until the back of her hand is brushing at the base of Alex’s breasts. She strokes experimentally, and that gets a groan out of Alex that has Maggie’s mouth going dry.

“I’ve dreamt about you doing that to me.” Alex murmurs.

“Doing what?” Maggie asks, stuttering halfway through the question when Alex reaches out to tug at her own top. She takes it off in a half-daze, and then unclasps her bra and throws that away too, almost mechanically, unable to fully focus on anything other than Alex’s body straddled underneath her.

In response to her question, Alex takes her hands, and guides them back to her bare breasts. Maggie’s hands curve around the warmth of them instinctively. When she strokes them again, Alex sighs in satisfaction. When she squeezes, and brushes her thumb fleetingly over a nipple, Alex arches up into her.

“Like that.” she says breathlessly. “Just, you touching me. I thought I would die if I had to wait any longer.”

Maggie bends down and grinds into her as the words trail off, causing Alex to release another sharp breath.

“ _Fuck_ , Maggie.”

Maggie nuzzles into her chest, smiling. Emboldened by that breathy gasp, she nips playfully at the smooth valley of skin. When she bites and licks her way up Alex’s breasts, she can feel hips grinding up into her again.

“Like that?” Maggie asks, pulling back, unable to keep a teasing smile off her face.

“Fuck.” Alex gasps. “That was- I’ve never had-”

She stutters to a stop, and gets very quiet, when Maggie lets her hands drift lower. Maggie runs teasing fingers down tensed thighs, revelling in how shallow Alex’s breathing gets with every touch. When she takes her hand away, and moves a leg up into the apex of Alex’s thighs instead, that draws another satisfying groan.

“Like that?” she repeats, her voice rougher from her own reaction to Alex’s fingers scrambling up her back. She can feel Alex rocking into her thigh, and thrusts back in tandem, the pressure intensifying between them.

“Yes.” Alex says, in between moans, seemingly too far gone to even come back with a retort. “Like that.”

“I’ve been wanting this for a while, too.” Maggie says, barely able to get the words out, too strung out on the feeling of being so intimately connected with Alex.

“Not as long as me.” Alex says breathlessly. “But, since we were both stupid enough to wait this long, let’s just get on with it.”

“No.”

Alex’s eyes fly open at the simple answer. Maggie bites her lips at the narrowing eyes that are directed at her, and feels another sharp flare of desire at Alex’s arms tightening around her back.

“I told you.” she says, removing her thigh from between Alex’s legs, and muffing the resulting sigh of disappointment with a quick peck to her lips. “We’re taking this slow.”

“You’ve already made me wait this long.” Alex challenges. “How slow are we talking?”

“That depends.” Maggie says.

“On what?” Alex demands.

Her eyes widen, when Maggie’s starts trailing fingers down her thighs again. Maggie goes for the inside this time, rubbing and stroking her way up to where the seams of Alex’s pants meet. When she strokes against there, Alex bites her lip, and her eyes flutter open and shut. Maggie keeps up the pressure for a while, rubbing and pressing into the wetness that she feels through the fabric, and listening to Alex’s increasingly erratic breathing. At another moan, she tugs the pants down altogether, and slips questing fingers inside.

“ _Fuck._ ” Alex repeats.

Maggie slides around in the wetness she finds there, before resuming her strokes, with just enough pressure to have Alex squirming under her again, but not enough to get her off. Yet.

“On how long you can last.” Maggie finally replies to the earlier question, and feels her own breath catch at the way Alex’s eyes darken to almost pitch black.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the later-than-usual update, guys. I've been up to my neck in meeting deadlines for various holiday exchanges. 
> 
> On the plus side, I wrote 2k worth of near-porn in this chapter?? merry chrysler!
> 
> And as always, thank you so much for reading, guys! I'm really grateful to y'all for sticking around for the many months that I've been churning out this fic.


	12. Chapter 12

When Maggie approaches Captain Rivera’s office shortly before noon, the captain looks up through the blinds and waves her in before she has even gotten close enough to the door to knock.

“Thought you might want an update about what happened at Sinclair’s interrogation last night.” Maggie says. Ever since they had uncovered Veronica Sinclair’s involvement with Cadmus, they had been  regularly questioning her in an effort to get more information, without much avail.

“How did it go this time around?” the captain asks. “Did Sinclair squeal?”

Maggie shakes her head as she walks in.

“I couldn’t get much out of her. I think she suspects something is up, and I didn’t want to press her too hard. I don’t want Cadmus to get word that we’re on their tails.”

“Makes sense.” the captain replies. “At least bureaucratic inefficiency is on our side. If you can get something against Cadmus soon, we can delay Sinclair’s trial until then, without her lawyers getting suspicious. But, you’ve got to get me that something fast, Sawyer.”

“Working on it.” Maggie says. “Actually, I’m heading over to the DEO right now, to go over our analysis of the alien disappearances with Director Lane.”

“Give me a briefing before you head over.” the captain requests. “I’ve got a few minutes before I head in for my meeting with the chief, if you have it ready now.”

Maggie takes the seat indicated, and flips open her laptop to her working files.

“I’ve been going through all the reported alien disappearances in the state, and mapping out the last-known location and home of each victim.” she says, tapping over dots on the map on screen.

“There are loci.” the captain observes, reaching a hand out herself to trace clusters where the dots are concentrated. “But, that could also be explained by the general pattern of population dispersion.”

“The concentration isn’t proportional to the population concentration in those areas.” Maggie says. “And, when I ran the numbers through a profiling program, it hit up some hotspots as likely areas of Cadmus activity.”

“Go any solid data to back that analysis up?”

“I’m going to be comparing it against the DEO’s recon findings.” Maggie says, “And against the information that Lena Luthor sent over to us, of locations where the Luthor family’s research files and funds have been accessed from. Something somewhere should stick. This kind of pattern isn’t naturally generated.”

“Fine.” comes the noncommittal reply, before Captain Rivera reaches over to unexpectedly pat Maggie on the arm. “I’m not trying to get you down, detective. It’s just that we’ve only got one shot at this. Sinclair’s lawyers will have us for lunchmeat, if we make one wrong move,  and I don’t even want to think about what the Luthor lot have in store for us.”

“Look at it this way.” Maggie says lightly. “I’ll go before you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The captain says. “But seriously, Sawyer... be careful going forward with this. I still remember the state you were in, when you came back from your first Cadmus recon.”

“The other guy looked worse, I swear.”

Captain Rivera directs a long-suffering look at Maggie.

“Just be careful.” she reiterates. “And, when this is all over... well, we’ve got some things to talk about.”

“O... kay?” Maggie draws out, curiosity awakened.

The captain merely waves her out, though, and Maggie leaves with the distinct feeling that she had been about to say something further.

\---

 

It occurs to Maggie as she speeds down the desert road to the DEO, that this route has become almost familiar to her, now that she’s taken to travelling between the station and DEO headquarters so regularly. She arrives in good time, well in advance of her scheduled check-in with Lucy, and takes advantage of that to pay a visit to the DEO’s training area. It has become a routine of hers to drop by there first, to see M’gann at work training DEO recruits. As soon as Lucy had learned of the taciturn Martian’s martial powers, she had requested her aid in training agents in maneuvers that Cadmus operatives wouldn’t be anticipating.

As Maggie approaches the training area, she can hear M’gann’s quiet voice taking the trainees through a particularly challenging maneuver. Not wishing to intrude on the session, Maggie merely lingers on the sidelines, sipping her coffee and nodding at her friend when their eyes meet. On her way out, though, she can’t help but notice that J’onn is watching the training intently from the other side of the ring. There is a slight smile on his face, but what worries Maggie is that M’gann seems to be actively avoiding looking in his direction.

Shaking that feeling off as nothing she can do anything about, she goes in search of Alex, only to find her cloistered in her research lab as usual, this time in deep conversation with a DEO agent - Winn Schott, Maggie remembers belatedly - and Lena Luthor. Alex seems distracted, as she looks up and waves Maggie in.

“What are you guys working on?” Maggie asks idly, walking in and doing a double take when she realizes that what they are all grouped around is the AI program that she and Alex had unearthed from Maxwell Lord’s storage vault all those months ago.

“Trying to flush out the technology we might be up against.” Alex replies briefly. “Look.”

She nudges Maggie over to the screen that they had been huddled around.

“Lena has given us a list of materials taken from her family’s warehouses that she thinks might have been siphoned off by Cadmus.” Alex explains. “We’re running a query on the database to get a list of all the weapons that each particular chemical would be used in the manufacture of, so that we can narrow down what sort of offensive technology Cadmus would be throwing at us.”

“How?” Maggie murmurs, still finding it a little hard to comprehend that this small piece of technology that she can reach out and touch, holds galaxies’ worth of information nestled inside it.

“Check this out.”

Alex looks up at Maggie as she says this, with a look that isn’t much different from her usual expression, but which Maggie has learned to decode as her being pleased with herself.

“Lena, can you read out the next chemical on your list?” Alex asks.

“Berethemite.” comes Lena’s prompt reply. “I’ve got crates of it that were supposedly used by R&D, but there weren’t sufficient logs of what they were used for.”

“Winn.” Alex prompts, gesturing at the agent, who rapidly types something into the makeshift keyboard attached to the database program.

“Berethemite.” the screen reads out instantly. “Highly explosive under pressure. First crafted on Planet Xerxez in the Yigren System on 35 Eorx 9500, under the name Myrogynx.”

Following this brief description appears a list of the weapons the chemical is used in, which Alex copies over to a separate screen.

“Neat.” Maggie says, watching intently as they go through the same process with more chemicals from Lena’s list, with the database faithfully spitting out answers for each one.

Then, the program hits a snag.

“Undominium.” Lena reads out the name of the next chemical, and Winn types it in.

“Not recognized.” comes the immediate result.

“Is that a standard reply?” Maggie asks, leaning closer to peer at the words on the screen.

“No.” Alex says, sounding angry, although Maggie suspects that the emotion is directed inwards. “The database is supposed to be a depository of all knowledge. How can there be absolutely no results popping up?”

“Hang on.” Lena cuts in, frowning at the list she has been reading down. “I think I might know why. This substance was developed by Thorul Labs back in 2010.”

“And the database was created before that, in the year that Krypton was destroyed.” Alex says, seeming to catch on. “So unless we know the name of this chemical from some planet other than Earth who had developed it _before_ then, we’re screwed.”

“We could move on to the next one, and come back to it later.”

“No.” Alex’s face looks determined. “Lena , you said almost all your stores of it are missing, and this substance is too unstable to be created easily. Cadmus must be using it for something.”

As the argument continues, Maggie stays out of it, and watches the screen that lists all the weapons that Alex has narrowed down so far. While the specifics of the chemicals and science involved might be flying over her head, she realizes that she recognizes some of the weapons on screen.

“We encountered some of these, while I was at Gotham PD.” she says out loud. “I’ll see if I can get their Major Crimes unit to send over the files on dealing with them, so we have blueprints to work from.”

“Great.” Alex says, but she still looks upset at the query coming up empty. “I guess we _should_ just move on, then.”

“It’s too bad there isn’t like, a universal language for this program.” Maggie comments, studying the holographic mix of English and Kryptonese on screen. “You’d think a futuristic space-faring species would have built that into the database.”

“Uh-huh.” Alex murmurs, before she freezes, and turns slowly around to face Maggie again, brows furrowing. “Hold that thought.”

“Holding.” Maggie quips.

“Winn, how soon can you find out if this database can handle a query in the form of a molecular structure?” Alex demands of the DEO agent, before turning to Lena Luthor. “And Lena, can you get us access to Thorul Labs’ research notes on this chemical, so that we can know the exact chemical structure of the compound?”

At this request, there begins a flurry of activity around the labs, with the conversation between the three getting so technical that Maggie soon bows out of it, in favour of heading out for her scheduled check-in with Lucy.

After handing her analysis over to Lucy to be double-checked with the findings of Vasquez’s research team, she snags an empty briefing room to make her promised update call to Captain Rivera, before placing a call to Gotham PD.

Nearly three hours and several rounds of conversation later, including a final one with Gotham’s police commissioner himself, Maggie gets what she has been angling for - carte blanche access for the DEO and NCPD to all of Gotham PD’s files on combating alien technology, for the duration of their hunt for Cadmus.

When she walks by the lab to check on Alex’s progress, en route to informing Lucy of the commissioner’s promise, Maggie finds her entry greeted with a beaming smile.

“We did it!” Alex says, face flushed with triumph. “The database was able to pin the chemical down by its molecular structure. It’s going to be so much faster to get results this way.”

“I probably shouldn’t feel glad about knowing that we’ve now got even more weapons we might be up against.” Maggie says, a little amusedly, staring at the screen with Alex’s filtered list, now significantly larger. “But, at least we’ll be going in prepared.”

“Damn right we’ll be prepared.” Alex says, smiling at her again, her habitual grave countenance entirely absent in the face of unexpected triumph.

She’s still smiling when Maggie exits the room to go find Lucy, and Maggie can’t help but return it with one of her own, as she waves goodbye. She knows that there’s a hard and jagged side to Alex, but it’s endearing to know that this - science in its purest essence - is what makes her smile. In some ways, Maggie finds this inner inquisitive side of her even more attractive. It was this side, after all, that Alex had revealed to her during their outing to the conservatory.

Maggie realizes, again, how fiercely she wants more dates like that, wants to see Alex smile like that again, and often. Wants to talk to Alex about the things that make her happy, and take her to places she likes, and have Alex do the same for her in return.

But, first... Cadmus.

Maggie continues even more determinedly in search of Lucy. She wants that future so badly, that happy one with Alex, and if she has to fight all of Cadmus to get it, she will.

\---

As the days pass, and the threat of Cadmus intensifies, with increased attacks all over the city, Maggie finds that her workload goes into hyperdrive. Sometimes, she finds herself working early hours at the NCPD and late hours at the DEO on the same day, catching a few hours of sleep in-between in Alex’s office.

Alex seems to be the same. While Maggie finds her time occupied with mapping out points of entry and attack on suspected Cadmus strongholds with Lucy and J’onn, Alex’s team makes equal headway in their work on devising effective counterattacks for Cadmus technology. There are many nights when the two see each other only when they stumble into the makeshift cot in the office together, having no time for anything more than an exhausted press of lips and whispered goodnights, before trying to eke out some hours of sleep.

“Do you think we’re on the right track?” Maggie murmurs to Alex one night, in a rare fit of disquiet during another late nap on the office floor, with the two of them holding each for some precious minutes before sleep overtakes them. “Sometimes I feel like we’re going about this all wrong, and that Cadmus is laughing up their sleeves at us the whole time.”

“We can only do our best.” Alex says, nosing into her hair, playing the part of comforter this time. “We’ve go through some pretty bleak odds before, Maggie. We can get through this too.”

Maggie leans back and looks up at the half-drooping eyes surveying her, before pressing a light kiss to a furrowed forehead.

“How come you make me believe in the impossible without even trying?” she asks.

The only reply she gets is a soft smile, and a swift flutter of eyes, as the exhausted Alex dozes off. Maggie soon follows her, cocooned in Alex’s arms and feeling safer than she has ever felt in her life.

\---

 

About a week later, there is a disruption in what has become Maggie’s hectic new schedule.

She walks into the DEO, and heads towards to training room as usual, to give her brief greeting to M’gann, when she finds the training room devoid of the Martian. In her place, there is a DEO agent in black fatigues, taking trainees through different maneuvers, who pays no attention to the startled Maggie staring through the glass.

Maggie shakes her head, and walks away from the room, rationalizing away M’gann’s absence. Something must have come up at the bar, of course. M’gann could hardly be expected to appear at the DEO’s beck and call, when she had her own business to run.

When she walks into the briefing room for her scheduled work meeting with Lucy and J’onn, though, Maggie realizes that her initial feeling of disquiet had been justified. J’onn’s face remains stiff, instead of relaxing into his customary greeting upon seeing her, Lucy looks vaguely guilty, and Alex is unexpectedly in the room as well, rising and approaching Maggie with a concerned look on her face.

“Is M’gann not coming in today?” Maggie asks.

“Maggie-” Alex starts, but is cut off by J’onn.

“Your associate,” he begins, “Is not who we thought she was.”

Maggie blinks.

“That’s nonsense.” she says, after no further explanation is offered. “It’s M’gann, she’s-”

“A White Martian.” J’onn J’onzz finishes.

“A what?”

“A war criminal, part of a group guilty of horrendous crimes on my home planet.” J’onn expands. “She used you... us ... to infiltrate the inner workings of the DEO.”

“We don’t know that for sure, J’onn.” Alex says hurriedly.

“That’s not true!” Maggie says at the same time. “M’gann was just trying to help. The only reason she even pitched in here is because I got involved!”

“Maggie, we don’t really known anything about her.” Alex says quietly. “And now, J’onn found out today that she had been lying about who she was.”

“We can’t have someone like that walking freely around the DEO.” Lucy says, still looking vaguely guilty, even as she reaches over to briefly squeeze J’onn’s hand.

Maggie looks back at Alex, and when no protests against the other two’s statements come from her, she walks out of the room, aware of Alex following behind.

“Maggie, just listen-”

Maggie pulls out her phone instead, rapidly dialing a number. When M’gann answers her call, she does so with a resigned voice, as if she had been expecting it, which makes Maggie’s heart sink farther.

“So it’s true?” she asks, without preamble. “What J’onn said about you, I mean.”

“The truth is more complicated, Maggie.” M’gann replies. “I am who he says I am.”

“A White Martian?” Maggie asks. “J’onn called you a war criminal.”

There is a long pause before there comes a reply to that statement.

“I should have done more to stop what my people did. A lot more.”

Maggie shares a look with Alex before continuing.

“But you helped us.” she says. “You’re on our side.”

“I am.” M’gann answers. “But, Maggie, I think you can see why not everyone will believe that.”

“I can’t just-” Maggie trails off.

Because, what she can or can’t accept doesn’t matter, of course. Personal feelings have no place in this fight. All she knows is that M’gann has risked her life for her many times without asking for anything in return, but that’s not currency that Maggie can barter with the DEO her innocence, not when they are still so new to working with each other.

M’gann seems to read her mind. Perhaps she actually does. In any case, her next words are firm, and brook no protest.

“They still need you, Maggie.” She says. “I can take care of myself. You just keep doing your job.”

“Right.” Maggie says, but the words ring hollow and unfaithful, even to herself.

When she ends the call and turns back to Alex, the latter steps towards her immediately.

“I’ll try to talk to him.” Alex says, eyes roving over Maggie’s face. “J’onn doesn’t... he hasn’t exactly had an easy life, Maggie.”

“She’s not like that.” Maggie says. “It makes no sense.”

“You know next to nothing about the majority of her life.” Alex points out, reasonably. Too reasonably for Maggie to handle right now.

“Maybe.” she says. “But, I do know that you and I won’t be alive today, if it wasn’t for her.”

“Yeah.” Alex voices is quiet. “I know, Maggie.”

Maggie shrugs, realizing too late that the gesture is a reflection of something she has already arrived at: defeat.

“We should go back to the meeting.” she says.

She doesn’t reject the tentative hand that reaches out to squeeze hers, after a furtive look at the empty hallway around them. Maggie squeezes back, but she doesn’t say anything, as Alex leads her back to the briefing room where Lucy and J’onn are waiting.

“I’m sorry.” Alex whispers to her later, as they meet each other in her office that night. “I know she was your friend.”

“It’s not your fault.” Maggie murmurs, clutching the hand that’s stroking up her cheek. “This is the way things have to be. I understand.”

She had known that this fight and this path wasn’t going to be easy. She just hadn’t expected losses this soon.

\---

 

Maggie knows that her and Alex had been working hard and long hours to prepare to take on Cadmus. She doesn’t realize the extent of it until one evening, though, when Lucy starts complaining during a routine wrap-up of a one-on-one meeting with Maggie.

“Alex was up all night in her lab yesterday, and then she was in the training room with Supergirl first thing this morning.” Lucy complains. “Get her out of here, Maggie, before I have the DOL on my case about her work hours.”

Maggie nods tightly, still feeling the distance that had opened up between them since the issue of M’gann leaving. She can’t, however, disregard the truth behind Lucy’s words, or her own worry about Alex’s schedule, so she goes to finds her as soon as the briefing wraps up. She is only halfway down the corridor leading to the research labs, when she bumps into Alex walking the other way.

“I was just looking for you.” Alex says, turning her around. “I feel like I’ve been cooped up here for too long. How about we leave early and get some proper dinner tonight?”

Maggie nods.

“I just have to drop off some files at the station first.” she says, following Alex out to the parking location.

As usual, there are both their bikes, parked side by side. Maggie can’t help but smirk at the Ducati.

“How fast is that thing?” she asks, twirling her own keys with one finger, as she nods at Alex’s bike.

Alex’s eyebrows arch at the question, clearly hearing the unspoken challenge.

“You want to go toe to toe against me on my own turf?” she asks, a smug smile blooming on her face. “With that tin can?”

“More like I’m asking you to try and keep up with my tin can.” Maggie retorts.

Alex’s eyes narrow, she stalks over to her bike, and they’re off with a roar down the desert road.

They’re neck to neck for most of the way to the city, but Maggie ekes out a narrow victory at the end, pulling up to the NCPD station’s parking lot just a hair’s breadth ahead of Alex.

“Beginner’s luck.” Alex grumbles, as she dismounts.

“I’ve been lucky for a long time, then.” Maggie quips, before taking out the files that she had slipped into her jacket. “Let me just hand these over to the captain, and I’ll be right out.”

When she returns from the station after clocking out, she finds Alex at the edge of the parking lot, staring out towards the park and the night sky.

“Pretty neat view for a police station, huh?”

Alex nods without protest. For a while, the two of them just stand there, watching the city dim to night. It’s a rare fogless night, clear enough to see the stars. It occurs to Maggie that the last time she had studied these stars, she had been gearing up to lose Alex. Now, here is Alex standing right by her, as they take in the sight together.

“So what did you feel like for dinner?” she murmurs into the silence, eventually.

Alex shakes her head, as she turns to her.

“I just said that to get you to come out with me.” she says. “J’onn told me to make sure you got off your shift on time, since you’ve been working so many extra hours lately.”

“Hold on.” Maggie says slowly. “Lucy told me to make sure that _you_ got some rest tonight.”

There is a pause, as they both look at each other, comprehension dawning.

“I’m going to kill them.” Alex growls, stalking back to her bike.

Maggie catches her hands before she makes it too far. Her heart does a flip when Alex looks back, her eyes widening and expression softening.

“I mean,” Maggie says, suddenly feeling a little bashful, “As long as we’re here, we might as well enjoy the break, right?”

They’ve done good work this past week, and she’s eager to dive into it again tomorrow. Right now, though, she feels entranced by the view of this city that she’s grown to call home, and by the woman standing in front of her.

Further words fail her when Alex bites her bottom lip and locks gazes with her, reaching out a hand to brush strands of hair away from Maggie’s face, fingers running through them as casually as if she’s been doing it forever.

“Ok.” Alex says. “But, I’m kind of tired of being around people all the time. Can we just go to your place?”

Maggie blinks before smiling, feeling some strange kind of warmth flooding through her at the frank look directed at her. She nods, and turns to walk back to her bike, when a thought occurs to her, and she walks to stand by Alex’s instead, leaning against the back seat.

“Your turn.” Maggie tells her, and she swears Alex’s eyes darken as she nods jerkily.

If Maggie had won their race through the desert, Alex is a beast on the smooth main roads of National city, navigating valleys and peaks as effortlessly as if the Ducati were an extension of her own body. Maggie, tucked against her back, smiles whenever she feels the bike take on a curve. She isn’t quite tall enough to anchor herself comfortably against Alex’s shoulder, so she sinks into the curve of her back instead, fitting into the valley as if her face had been made to rest there. Her hands hold a death grip on Alex’s stomach, unable to completely discard her wariness at this relinquishment of control.

Maggie smiles. It feels good, despite her reservations. Her face pressed against the warmth of Alex’s body... it feels like that’s where she’s supposed to be.

When they reach her apartment, Maggie heads straight for the bedroom, eager for the chance to sleep on a horizontal surface that isn’t a hard stone floor for once. Alex follows her, but hesitates at the threshold, so Maggie goes back to pull her in, flipping both them on to the bed with with a breathy giggle.

They wrestle playfully for a while, before flopping back to either side of the bed, still laughing. Maggie tries to catch her breath between gasps of laughter, but everytime she looks at Alex, she goes off again, the both of them setting each other off into peals of sheer happiness, as they snuggle under the soft blankets.

“God, a real bed, _finally.”_ Alex groans out, and Maggie has to agree. “That feels so good.”

Maggie nods, a lazy smile stealing over her face, when Alex turns to her side and nuzzles into her, a hand looping over her stomach. Right now, she is exhausted enough that she’s content to just lie side by side like this, sinking into their shared warmth, and letting sleep wash away her exhaustion.

All bets are off, though, when Alex rolls on top of her, eyes flitting shut as her lips seek out Maggie. Maggie closes the last inch of the gap between them, lifting herself up to seek that contact, that feeling of being so intimately connected with someone.

Alex ravages her mouth. Maggie really has no other words to describe that wonderful tongue sliding against her own, hitting every sensory nerve ending in a way that has her squirming under Alex. Alex kisses her like they have all the time in the world, and holds down Maggie’s arching body with the weight of her own, as they resurface for air from the kiss after kiss, only for their mouths to seek each other out again.

“What?” Maggie murmurs out eventually, aware that this time when they break for air Alex is saying something.

“-your clothes.” Alex finishes, tugging at her shirt for emphasis.

Right, clothing, Maggie remembers hazily. She’s wearing too much of it, and it all feels too tight against her body, which seems to have expanded with its feeling for Alex. She takes the shirt off, feeling the chill night air hit her, contrasting headily against the warmth of Alex's fingers finding her skin.

“Can I?” Alex asks, fingers trailing up her stomach, before her thumbs trace the curve of her breasts through her bra.

Maggie nods, finding it hard to speak when those dexterous hands are on her skin, leeching away the function of all higher faculties.

She barely gets her bra thrown to the side and her pants shucked down, before Alex’s mouth is on her body, licking down it with a focused intensity and thoroughness that has Maggie gasping. Wet kisses against the valley of her breasts, punctuated by soft nips of teeth on the tender skin, have her fisting her hands into the sheets, unable to do more than shift helplessly under that talented mouth. Alex’s knee comes into the apex of her thighs, rocking up into her and adding to the straining tension building up inside Maggie. She spreads wider, and god, that feels so good, pushing against Alex, as she grinds against the most sensitive part of Maggie like that, while trailing kisses down her body.

She knows that just this, rocking against Alex, and feeling herself filled to bursting with tension, is enough. But then Alex takes a nipple into her mouth, and the other in turn, with lips swollen from where Maggie had bitten and sucked them. Maggie lets a whimper escape, desperate for a more intimate touch, something that would release everything that Alex is building up inside her.

“Not bad for a beginner, huh?” Alex breathes out, making eye contact with Maggie when she hears the sound, and this time her smile is smug. Teasing, even.

“Shove it.” Maggie says, half-exasperated, half-laughing and all breathless, as she guides Alex’s hand back down, lower, _inside her_ , loving the way Alex immediately starts moving two fingers in her, as if she’d only been waiting to be asked.

Alex starts off slow, stroking and rolling inside her with a gentle firmness, eliciting soft whispers of want out of Maggie. When Maggie rocks up against her, she doesn’t stop the movement, instead lifting herself up and positioning herself above, studying her with half-closed eyes intently. She draws out her fingers part-way - Maggie muffles a sound of protest - and slides them back in, adjusting to the new position, and _wow_ , that feels even better.

“Is that good?”

Maggie nods and grinds into the fingers, eyes falling closed in sheer bliss. Alex meets the movement with a thrust of her own, and the pressure is good, so tight inside her, that Maggie almost gives in right there. Every instance of contact only adds to intensity of the ache inside her, as she moves against Alex. A final thrust into rolling hips, and she comes, slumping back down on the bed afterwards.

She’s aware of Alex winding her down, pressing gentle kisses over every part of her body she can reach, with a soothing gentleness that it is a complete contrast to the almost-painful tightness when she had been inside Maggie. Afterwards, Alex uses both hands to stroke down the length of her body, her calm and firm movements grounding Maggie in the moment, and lowering the thundering beat of her heart.

“Was that ok?” Alex asks again, but there’s an insecure edge to the question now.

“Yes.” Maggie says at once, wanting to dispel any doubts.

She repeats the words a few more times, still a little breathy, and loves the delighted and proud laugh that gets out of Alex, who is still stroking her arms in that soothing way. Entranced by the sound, Maggie reaches up to drag Alex down to her body, so they are all wrapped up in each other like a cocoon.

“They’re going to kill us.” She murmurs. “We’re supposed to be resting.”

“I am.” Alex mumbles back sleepily, eyes fluttering shut as she nuzzles into Maggie’s hair.

Maggie presses a kiss to the top of her head, and strokes down her back, listening to Alex’s breathing even out, as her hair flares out with every exhale of breath. When Alex rolls away from her after a few minutes, wrapping herself up in the blankets as she drifts off to sleep on her side, Maggie lets her own eyes close too, welcoming this sweet respite from their hectic life.

After all, two days from now, in the small hours of dawn, they are due to make their stand against Cadmus.

\---

 

The decision is made to strike all suspected Cadmus strongholds on the same day. They divide into eleven teams, comprised of every spare agent and officer that the DEO and NCPD could scrounge up, along with some loans from the FBI, with only a skeleton staff left behind at the headquarters for ground control.

Maggie gives Alex one last lingering kiss in her office, before they both head out to meet their respective teams. Maggie would be leading one of the strike teams in charge of evacuating a suspected Cadmus prison site. Alex would be leading the charge into Cadmus’ suspected headquarters.

“I have something for you, this time.” Alex says, when they pull back.

“If it’s another kiss, I could get used to this.” Maggie jokes, but falls silent when she notices the intense expression on Alex’s face.

The latter picks up a notebook, black and ordinary-looking, from the clutter on her desk.

“When I first started the undercover mission, Lucy asked me to keep a log.” Alex says. “I was supposed to write down everything that happened, because it was too dangerous to use recorders. She said it could be handy if we ever ran in trouble with prosecuting the ringleaders, or if the question of a court martial ever came up.”

“Is that it?” Maggie asks, unable to take her gaze away from the unassuming notebook.

“I kept writing in it, even after I cut contact with the DEO.” Alex says, reminiscently. “It kept me grounded, somehow. Reminded me that there was a reason I was doing all this.”

She hands the book over to Maggie.

“I want you to read it.”

Maggie hesitates, aware of the significance of the offer.

“I mean it.” Alex insists.

Maggie silently takes the book and tucks it away into her uniform, unable to shake off the feeling that Alex wouldn’t have given it to her unless she was afraid that she would, that they would-

She finds herself embracing Alex again, feeling the strength of her body against hers, wanting to never let go.

“I can’t lose you.” she says, the word muffled by Alex’s uniform pressed against her face.

“You won’t.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

“I’m more sure of that than I’ve been of most things this past year.”

Maggie nods, somewhat comforted, and  pulls back. Another kiss, quick this time, and then Alex is walking back to her team.

Maggie lingers on the way to meeting up with her own team, pulling out her phone as she does so.

“Hey.” Maggie says softly, when the call is picked up.

“Maggie!” the sleepy voice of her aunt immediately becomes alert.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been calling as regularly.” Maggie starts.

“No, no!” her aunt says quickly, although Maggie can hear the anxiety in her voice. “I know you’re a busy girl, I get it.”

“Right.” Maggie says. “I was just- I mean-”

It’s become a habit of hers, to check in with her aunt before any major operation she undertakes, and she can see by the long pause on the other end of the line, that her aunt has recognized this as one of those times.

“Maggie.” her aunt says eventually.

“Yeah?”

“It’s getting pretty cold out here.” her aunt says. “I was thinking of coming down to National City for a couple of weeks. Next month, maybe.”

“Yeah?” Maggie repeats.

“I’m gonna need you to pick me up at the airport when I get there, ok? You know I’m no good with big cities. I’m gonna need you to be there.”

“Right.” Maggie says, working around the sudden lump in her throat. “I will be. I promise. I gotta go now.”

“Take care, Maggie. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Maggie replies, turning back to take one last look at Alex, before she puts away her phone and joins her team.

\---

 

Maggie’s team moves through the shadows like a well-oiled machine, breaking in through a side door of the suspected prison facility. with the guidance of the surveillance team installed in an unmarked van two blocks away.

“We’re in.” Maggie reports into her comm, gesturing at her team to hide back into the shadows, as they wait for the surveillance team to break into the security program, with the disruptor code that Lena and Winn had perfected. Five minutes of heart-pounding tension, a snick as the lock is cut open, and they are in.

They make it past one turn of hallway, before they’re noticed. Then, there’s fire, flashing lights from alien weaponry, and a whole lot of confusion. Maggie doesn’t get through unscathed, but she does get through, moving with difficulty through the Cadmus guards confronting her, to the area where her team has planned to reassemble, a place close to where they estimate the cells to be.

“Status?” the agent from the surveillance van requests in Maggie’s ear.

Maggie dodges out of the way of a blaster beam, as another of her team ducks the other way. The shot takes down almost the entire wall behind them upon impact.

“Fuck.” Maggie breathes out, in between spitting out plaster and running forward to help Agent Benitez take down the shooter. She figures that’s as good a status update as any.

As she takes down the last of the guards guarding the entrance to the underground cells, the rest of her team struggles through one by one, in various states of injury from their fight to get through.

“We’re in.” Maggie reports, after a quick head count.

She leads the charge down the stairs, silently motioning behind her for the team to split into two files down the edge of the stairs as planned, before checking in again.

“Beginning Operation Rover.”

More fire and more confusion, as they fight they way past the guards stationed below, taking advantage of their tactical higher position to launch a surprise ambush. Minutes later, Maggie steps over the knocked-out body of the last guard, wincing at the pain blossoming in her side, where a blaster shot had met its mark.

“Let’s get cracking before they wake up.” she orders her team, before gesturing at the cells arrayed in neat rows on either side of them. “Release them from both ends inwards. Don’t forget the cuffs.”

She leads half the team to one end, starting the standard prisoner retrieval procedure that the DEO had devised, after the disaster from the first recon mission. The first three rooms proceed as planned. Get the alien out, slap on cuffs as a temporary containing measure, and pass them onto the agent waiting by the door, to be helped out. Like clockwork.

The inhabitant of the fourth door, however, has Maggie stopping cold in her tracks.

“Groupie?”

The word tries to be jeering, but it falls flat on the tongue of the Infernian who voices it. Scorcher’s face is shadowed and bruised, a far cry from the usual arrogant tilt of it, as she looks up at Maggie.

Maggie takes a deep breath, refocuses, and proceeds with the standard restraining and cuffing.

“Seriously?” the Infernian mutters, making only a cursory protest as the power-shorting cuffs are slapped around her wrist. “So you _are_ with them. Fucking cops.”

“Aw, I missed you, too.” Maggie says. “And no, these are temporary, until we get you all out of here. I'm here to help you, so don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

She directs Scorcher out to the waiting agent, and the Infernian falls in line with only a smidgen of her usual defiance. It makes Maggie worry about what Cadmus has put these prisoners through, but she pushes that thought aside, fully aware that she can do nothing about it at the moment. Instead, she focuses on escorting the prisoners to the stairs two by two, noting how some of them are hurt so badly that their body weight has to be supported almost entirely.

“We need to get out of here.” Maggie mutters, when both halves of team are assembled on middle ground, before speaking into her comm again. “Phase one complete. We’re coming up now.”

“You’ve got incoming.” is the brief reply. “Three hostiles from upper left. Armed.”

There’s a brief volley of fire flashing down the stairs. Maggie directs her team to duck behind the pillars, intending to wait out the attack until the surveillance crew comes in with an update.

“We’ve hacked into their blasters.” comes the update from the van, half a terror-filled minute later. “They should be non-functional now.”

And indeed, the lightshow stops on cue, buying her team time enough to creep up the stairs. A brief hand-to-hand skirmish later, resulting in three unconscious guards flung down the stairs, and Maggie directs her team to file out the side door they had entered by. She hasn’t even drawn in a breath of relief, when the comm pings again.

“What now?” Maggie grumbles.

“Straggler guards are closing in from the perimeter. Two are headed your way. Keep an eye out.”

That’s all the warning Maggie gets, before a fist flies into her face. She stumbles back into the team filing behind her, scrambling to get a good angle to fire back, when a foot shots out from behind her and kicks out at the attacker, sending them reeling to the floor.

Maggie quickly takes out the second guard, before turning to stare at the owner of the foot.

“What are you staring at, groupie?” Scorcher asks tiredly, retracting it. “If you are actually trying to get us out of here, let’s get a move on.”

“Right.” Maggie replies after a blink, turning back to lead the way to their escape van parked in the bushes.

\---

 

Maggie had imagined a triumphant return back to DEO headquarters. She doesn’t expect to run into utter chaos.

When the van squeals into the DEO entrance, there are DEO agents sequestered around the perimeter of the building, mingling with a crowd of confused NCPD officers, and FBI personnel. Maggie immediately catches onto the oppressive atmosphere, which only worsens when she takes in the aliens writhing on the floor, Kara and J’onn included, whose very bodies seem to be spasming, as if they are trying to fight off some invisible force.

Then, Maggie realizes with another chill of fear that Alex is nowhere to be found. By their plan, her team should have returned before Maggie’s.

“What happened?” she asks Lucy, after shoving through the crowd to find the director, and gestures around herself at the suffering aliens. “What’s happening to them?”

“You know the Myriad mind control program that all the law enforcement agencies were on high alert about two years ago?” Lucy asks abruptly.

Maggie blinks.

“The basics of it, yes.” she says after a while. “The captain was cagey on details, though.”

“Maxwell Lord has managed to take the program and reverse it to control alien minds instead.” Lucy grits out. “And he’s holed up in there.”

She gestures towards the headquarters.

“And Alex?” Maggie asks, her sense of urgency mounting.

“Hers was the first team to return, Maggie.” Lucy says, face ashen. “They went in unaware. She’s still in there, but Max knocked out the rest of her team in a surprise attack.”

“We’ve got to go in there.” Maggie says. “Come on, Lucy, we’ve done this before. We can-”

“This isn’t like last time.” Lucy says, shaking her head. “Apparently when my f- when General Lane gave Lord Technologies access to analyze the Myriad program two years ago, he also gave him carte blanche access to the DEO. Lord is threatening to turn off the security system of all the DEO’s prison cells if we enter.”

Maggie swears.

“No wonder he let himself be captured.”

“We walked right into this trap.” Lucy says, looking furious with herself.

“Still-” Maggie looks around again, eager to make some movement so that she can feel less insert, less useless. “We can’t just do nothing.”

 _Alex._ Alex is in danger. She could already be - Lord could already have -

“We have to to do something.” Maggie repeats, raspily.

“I know. I’m trying to figure this out.” Lucy says, looking frustrated.

Maggie looks around at the struggling aliens around her. It is when her eyes land on J’onn, that an idea forms in her head.

“M’gann!” she says. “She’s still back in the city. She should be outside the perimeter of influence!”

“What?” Lucy’s eyes flash. “We aren’t involving someone like her in this situation.”

“Why not?” Maggie retorts. “She’s done nothing but help us, in the time that you’ve known her. Have you got a better idea?”

“You heard J’onn, Maggie. She was a war criminal on Mars.” Lucy says, but her words now have the tone of doubt in them.

“You said we need to work fast.” Maggie reminds her. “This is the best chance we’ve got. M’gann has earned our trust in every instance that we’ve worked with her.”

Lucy looks to be in an agony of conflict and indecision, face flicking back and forth between Maggie and the struggling figure of J’onn.

“Fine.” she snaps out in the end. “It that’s the only chance to save my team, I’ll take it.”

She ends with a “Be fast.”, but Maggie barely hears it, because she’s busy running back through the crowd, trying to get as far back from the building as she can before she hits solid rock. She dials M’gann’s number as she runs, and as her body connects with the farthest wall, M’gann picks up.

“M’gann?” Maggie yells into the phone over the din in front of her, “I need your help!”

The Martian arrives in a matter of seconds, the question on her lips dying as she takes in the chaos around them.

“No time to explain.” Maggie says hurriedly. “Phase me into the DEO building and then get yourself out of here, quickly.”

M’gann obeys instantly, with all the alacrity of a trained soldier. She phases Maggie into a dark and deserted hallway, before phasing back out herself, her face already spasming with emotion, as she tries futilely to fight off the reverse Myriad’s effects.

Maggie checks her grip on her gun again, and breathes in and out, trying to regulate her heartbeat. She keeps to the side of the corridor, feeling supremely grateful that Alex and Vasquez had taken the time to go over the DEO’s layout with her.

When she reaches the end of the corridor, a quick peek outside helps her to get a rough idea of where exactly in the facility she is. Maggie goes through various routes in her head, of how she can get to the control room unnoticed, for that is where Lord would have to be. It’s the only room in the place with the technology to broadcast the signal.

After some trepidation, she chooses the path that would have her entering out of the backup generator room, from where her approach would be hidden from the control panel by several workspace terminals. She ducks behind the terminals for cover, as she tries to near the approximate location of the faint conversation that she can hear. The closer she gets to the sound, the clearer she can make out Alex speaking angrily, and Maxwell Lord replying in a bored tone, as though rehashing the same point over and over again.

“You know there’s no way you’re getting out of this unscathed.” Alex’s voice is seething with rage.

“You’d be surprised at how I could spin this.” Lord replies. “Even if I were to release the prisoners, whose idea was it to contain them in a facility so close to a major city?”

“We’re talking about beings that can teleport and control minds, Max.” Alex shoots back. “They’d have been dangerous anywhere.”

“But your agency chose to put them here.”

“Fuck you.” Alex spits out.

Maggie, nearing silently, hears another voice join the argument. This one sounds tinny and artificial, as if being broadcasted through a receiver, but the cadences of it are unmistakably recognizable.

“Stop delaying, Maxwell.” Lillian Luthor’s voice rings out. “Amplify the signal to cover the city, like we planned.”

“You take one step near that control console, Max, and I blow your brains out.” Alex interjects.

“If you do that, the prison cells will be automatically opened.” Lord replies calmly. “I programmed a death switch into the release program. The minute my body stops breathing, the release program activates.”

“Agent Danvers, you’re fighting a losing battle.” Lillian Luthor’s voice, distinctly annoyed now, replies.

Maggie risks a glance around the workstation she’s hiding behind, to see Maxwell Lord and Alex facing off each other by the door of the control room. She can also see the skeleton ground control crew hiding behind their own workspaces, clearly under orders by Lucy to keep their heads down. On one of the large monitors by the control terminal, is displayed the face of Lillian Luthor.

“If you don’t give my colleague access to the control room, he will unlock the prison cells.”

“Where did you get access to those codes, Max?” Alex asks now.

She’s steadfastly looking at Lord, although from her angle, she must surely have caught the motion of Maggie’s head peeking out. Maggie realizes that Alex is trying to buy her time, and keep Lord distracted. Alex had known she would come.

“No, let me guess.” Alex continues. “It was when General Lane contacted Lord Technologies to develop the Myriad blocker, right? You double-crossing bastard.”

“I’d like to see you prove any of that in court.” Lord says, and Maggie can almost hear his smirk, although the man has his back to her.

Knowing that there’s precious little time to waste, she moves to as good an angle as she can manage, and goes for her gun. The soft sound of her fabric, as she draws out the weapon, draws Lord’s attention and he whips around, hand lifting a small pistol.

Then follow ten seconds defined by adrenaline and abject terror. Three shots go off in that time. The first is Lord’s shot, that hits Maggie and sends her staggering back. Maggie retaliates, at the same time Alex does, and Lord falls. Maggie sucks in a breath, bracing herself for the worst, but other than pain blooming in her chest, centered around the impact area, and a winded feeling, she feels nothing else. No blood. The bullet hadn’t made it through.

“Maggie.” is all Alex manages to gasp out, as Maggie runs to her, stopping only briefly to check on Lord and relieve him of his weapon.

It is then that Maggie notices how washed out Alex’s face looks in the harsh overhead lights of the DEO, and that there is wetness darkening her DEO uniform, spreading out from a bullet wound in her right arm.

“Are you okay?” Alex manages.

“Am _I_ okay?” Maggie wants to laugh and cry at the same time. “What happened to you, Danvers?”

“Max got me, when I came in through the door.” Alex says, wincing as she tries to move up. “I ducked, but not fast enough.”

“You’ve been standing there bleeding all this time? We need to get you help!”

Alex shakes her head emphatically, and trying to lift herself up.

“It barely grazed me.” she says. “We can’t let anyone in until I turn Max’s program off, and shut down the Myriad signal.”

“Alex.” Maggie says pleadingly, because she can’t do this, Alex can’t be a damn hero right now. “Alex, _please.”_

But Alex is already getting up, using Maggie form and her own unwounded arm as leverage.

“I need to get this done.” she insists. “And you need to secure all the points of entry until I finish. Maggie, please understand.”

Maggie doesn’t bother protesting further, knowing it to be futile. Every second she wastes arguing would be another second of Alex bleeding away.

“I do.” she says simply, before running back to the main entrance, trying not to tear up because every step take her farther from Alex, Alex who is bleeding far too much for that bullet to have just grazed her.

But they have a job to do, Maggie has a duty to fulfill, and she does it, fortifying the entry points, scouting the situation outside, and giving Lucy periodic updates via her com.

“I did it!” Alex yells out, after what feels like an eternity, and Maggie doesn’t walk, she _runs_ back to her, just in time to steady a collapsing Alex.

“I’m ok.” Alex mutters. “Just... the pain... Maggie...”

Maggie chokes out a final update to Lucy, before returning her attention to Alex, placing a warm hand on her cool cheek, trying to use sensation to keep Alex from drifting off into unconsciousness.

“You’re ok, Alex.” she says, her voice sounding unfamiliar emotionless even to her. “You’re going to be okay. Help is almost here.”

And then, Supergirl is breaking in the door, there is a crowd flooding the place, and it is rushing towards Maggie, and Alex’s fallen form.

\---

 

Maggie doesn’t remember much of what happened after, because it passes in a haze, with her following the actions expected of her mechanically. When the chaos is over, there she is, sitting in a mercifully empty waiting room, knowing that Alex is a behind a thin wall, while the best surgeons the DEO has on hand are working on her.

“Hey, kid.” the words tiptoe into Maggie’s ear as slowly as the footsteps steal into the ward.

Maggie looks up to see a bruised and dishevelled Captain Rivera, who is regarding her with a softness in her eyes that Maggie has rarely seen there.

“You need to eat.” the captain says, holding out a sandwich and a cup of coffee.

Maggie shakes her head and looks back down, trying to work her voice around the lump in her throat.

“Not hungry.” she manages.

She had held it together after Alex collapsed. She had helped the DEO secure the facility. She had seen Supergirl storm with fire in her eyes to hunt down Lillian Luthor, after seeing Alex’s body on the floor. She had directed the other injured humans and aliens to the med bay as needed.

She had done her job, and now all she wants to do is collapse into herself, and not come out until the door to the surgery room opens again.

The captain lays the food and drink by her chair, and slips out silently. Maggie barely registers the parting pat on her shoulder. It just makes her body want to sink down further.

After a while, she eats the food, for lack of nothing better to do. The coffee goes down the same way, and then Maggie is back to staring down at the floor, trying to sink her mind into oblivion.

The book that Alex had given her is heavy in her breast pocket, the most persistent reminder of Alex. Maggie struggles with herself for the better part of an hour, before taking it out. There is a dent in it, where Maxwell Lord’s bullet had burrowed half-way through. So that had been what stopped his shot, she realizes belatedly.

She teases the bullet out, before pushing apart the leaves of the book with shaky hands.

There, in a scratchy and nearly indecipherable hand, is the account of Alex Danvers’ two years in exile.

\---

 

The entries start out short and precise. Logs of meeting with various dealers, with obvious codenames used. Descriptions of modifications done to weapons, with details of when and for whom. Transcripts of entire situations written down in code. Loss bleeds in between the lines of entry, not in them. It’s what Alex chooses not to disclose, that is telling to Maggie of what her mental state had been like, when writing these entries.

It is more than a year into the records, when the tone of the logs change.

At first, there is annoyance, as notes are written down of Alex’s suspicion of someone tracking her down, closing in on her. She’s been hearing whispers of a cop asking disquieting questions of the right people on the street. The tone of these logs are astonished and annoyed in turn. Annoyance at being tailed. Astonishment that the cop is succeeding in doing the tailing.

It’s referring to _her,_ Maggie realizes, with shock and some chagrin. She hadn’t realized that Alex caught on to her so early on in the game.

There’s a later entry, transcribing the details of their first meeting. Maggie smiles at “Detective Dimples” being her moniker for the greater part of this entry. Already, there is Alex’s quiet wit blending into the previously dead tone of the logs, prompting Maggie to peruse further into the book.

Another short record catches her eyes, from a transcript of their second meeting. There’s an undercurrent of surprise running through this log, at the fact that Maggie had managed to solve the bread crumb clues that had led to their meeting again. The way the tone shifts from disdain to surprise to surly acceptance is so quintessentially Alex that it makes Maggie smile, despite herself.

The entries go on, bursting into life. Plans to meet with Maggie at the station, at the park, and other places. A short rationale on why Alex had decided to trust her with knowledge of the Kryptonian database. Mixed in now are inconsequential things too, like a note scratched into the margins of how Maggie had taken her coffee, during the one time they had met at a cafe. Another note on Maggie’s bike, this one somewhat disparaging in tone.

And so on, one entry for everything they have shared together. The days at the park. The nights spent planning in Maggie’s apartment. The fight. The reconciliation. The days spent in M’gann’s bar. Each entry evokes myriad emotions in Maggie, but none so much as the last page.

When she turns over to the very last leaf of the book that isn’t empty, Maggie draws in a sharp breath. There’s a sketch on this page, instead of words. It is crudely done, by a clearly untrained hand, but Maggie can still make out the plants in the drawing as the bonsais she had showed Alex at the conservatory. And in the middle of it, standing by the window through which the moonlight had shone in, is a scribbled Maggie.

Maggie is aware that she’s full-on crying, as she takes in the picture. The page grows wet with her tears, but she doesn’t care for once, because Alex had wanted her to see this, had wanted her to read these pages, had laid her heart bare for Maggie to see.

She’s still sniffling as she closes the book, so that she almost misses the raised voice from behind the ward.

“-need rest, ma’am.”

“Let me go!”

“-gent Danvers... don’t advise-”

And then, before Maggie can draw in her held breath, there is Alex rushing out of the room, her left arm in a sling, and she’s smiling the softest smile at Maggie, as she springs up towards her.

“Hey, babe. Missed me?”

\---

 

There are hugs after that, and as many kisses, and tearful reunions with Kara, J’onn, and the rest. At the end of it, a very disgruntled Alex is chivvied back to her bed by the even more disgruntled nurses on duty.

It is much later in the night, therefore, while sitting by her bedside, that Maggie hands the journal back to Alex, who opens it almost shyly, poking a finger through the bullet hole in the first few pages.

“I wasn’t-” Alex starts, looking strangely embarrassed. “I wasn’t myself then.”

“You were.” Maggie says, laying a steady hand over Alex’s roving one. “And you are.”

She squeezes, and Alex squeezes back, and suddenly the words are rising to Maggie’s words with such a ring of truth that she has absolutely no desire to quell them.

“You are.” she repeats. “And I love you for it... I love you so much, Alex.”

Alex looks up at her with shining eyes, that look amazed for a few moments.

“I love you, too.” she says, her voice catching at the end.

Maggie leans forward and kisses her softly, smiling against the curve of Alex’s lips.

“Will you stay?” Alex asks, when she pulls back.

A cheesy “Always.” rises to Maggie’s lips, but she reconsiders it. Too glib, too easy.

“Yeah.” she says instead.

It’s an answer she means to give tomorrow too, and every night after that, both of them working day by day on this beautiful thing that they have built up between them.

\----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, as always, for reading!!! And thanks for those of you who commented and kudosed too :DDD


	13. Chapter 13

Maggie does leave Alex’s bedside eventually, to join Captain Rivera’s negotiation with Lucy and J’onn on how to arrange the prisoner transfer. By the time she returns, it’s well past midnight, and she stops just short of opening the door to Alex’s ward, halted by indistinct murmurs coming from inside.

Recognizing Kara’s anguished voice mingled with the conciliatory tones of Alex, she moves to the waiting chair instead, pulling out her phone and scrolling through her news feed. There are already news articles breaking out about the Cadmus takedown and Lillian Luthor’s arrest, the release of them no doubt orchestrated by Cat Grant. The media mogul had kept to her word, it seems.

Maggie is partway through the fourth article on the events of the night, when the voices from the ward die down, footsteps sound, and Kara’s head emerges from the opening door, still turned back into the room.

“I’ll go see if Lucy needs help with Lillian Luthor.” she is saying. “You get some sleep for once.”

Maggie stands up just as a reply is murmured back, and nods at Kara as she passes.

“I think she’s already had dinner-” Kara begins, eyeing the greasy bag in Maggie’s hands, but is cut off by a shake of her head.

“It’s for you.” Maggie says, passing over the potstickers. “Your sister told me you like them, and I know you didn’t get the chance to eat much today.”

There’s a blink of surprise, and then eager hands are clutching the bag away from her.

“You ok?” Maggie asks, unable to keep from smiling at the chipmunk cheeks nodding back at her, already bulging with food.

“Other than a minor headache?” Kara asks, between chews. “I’m fine. Haven’t been better in a long while, actually.”

When Maggie nods and makes to move past her, though, she’s surprised by the sudden hand shooting out and gripping her arm, the hold near to painfully tight. When she looks back in surprise, the Kryptonian’s eyes are bright.

“Thanks.” Kara says.

“Likewise.” Maggie replies, knowing it’s not directed at the food.

The two women who love Alex the most look at each other, an understanding passing between them that words could not have managed, before Kara releases her and walks away. Maggie enters the ward buzzing from a curious high, to find a restless Alex within.

“Everything good down there?” Alex asks, looking ready to fairly burst out of the bed. “Did Luthor try anything?”

“Cranky about still being stuck up here, are you?” Maggie asks.

“I’m fine.” Alex argues for the tenth time that night. “I don’t see why I have to stay here overnight.”

“Because you have a hole through your arm, next.” Maggie says. “And yes, everything’s fine. Lucy sent most of the agents home for the night, but we’ve got a few monitoring Lillian Luthor’s every move, and Captain Rivera’s got NCPD officers on standby too.”

Alex sighs and leans back in her bed, the tension seeming to seep out of her.

“I can’t believe it’s over, either.” Maggie says. “I feel like we’ve been working on this forever.”

She doesn’t feel unmoored, like she usually does at the end of a long mission. The feelings assaulting her instead are those of apprehension, coiling her body as tight as a screw. Maybe Alex catches this, because she motions her close, running her palms up Maggie’s arms in the way that always has her going soft.

“You good?”

Maggie nearly brushes it off, but the word exits her mouth regardless.

“No.”

Alex just waits.

“I’m not good.” Maggie continues, finally. “I’m not good with you with that bullet through your arm, bleeding out on the floor.”

“I’m still here, though.” Alex says. “And the same thing could have happened to you, just as easily as it did to me.”

“I know.” Maggie says, sinking against her, burrowing into the warmth of her body. “I just realized... I think I finally understand why Emily was so scared for me all the time. It’s different, when it’s not me staring the down the barrel of the gun.”

She can feel Alex’s fingers tighten their hold at the mention of her ex, but her voice is even she speaks, and there’s a slightly rueful smile on her face.

“Like I said, I’m here. And I’m not planning on going away for a long time.”

Maggie smiles back. Her thumb latches onto the space between Alex’s knuckles, and rubs soothing circles back and forth.

“If you don’t keep that promise, I’ll kill you myself.” she mumbles. “If Kara doesn’t get there before me, anyway.”

Alex’s kiss, pressed against her forehead, is as soft as a feather.

“How can you kill me if I’m already dead?”

“We’ll figure out a way.”

“I’m sure you two will.” Alex says fondly.

They’re still staring at each other, neither willing to look away, when Alex’s phone buzzes.

“What is it?” Alex asks, putting the caller on speaker.

“I think you two need to get down here for this.” Lucy’s tinny voice comes over the line. “Even you, Danvers.”

“What now?” Alex asks, shooting a questioning glance at Maggie, who shrugs back, equally mystified.

“Your sister had a brilliant idea.” Lucy’s exasperated sigh can be clearly heard over the speaker. “Just get down here.”

\---

 

When they enter the conference room that Lucy had summoned them to, what Maggie doesn’t expect to see is Lillian Luthor seated at the helm of the table, looking as if she owns the place. Kara is standing by her side, looking entirely unbothered by the arrangement.

“What is she doing?” Alex asks, in some alarm, reflecting Maggie’s own feelings. “Why is she not in a cell?”

“Good to see you in the flesh again too, Agent Danvers.” Lillian Luthor says. “It was rude of you to walk out of our last meeting like that.”

“Your sister had the brilliant idea of bringing her out of her cell.” Lucy interrupts, when Alex turns to her in mute appeal. “Thought she might be able to get through, and convince Lillian to talk. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Kara-” Alex says, with fond exasperation, striding forward to get her sister’s attention. “What have I told you about not entering the cells without another agent present?”

“Like you’ve ever taken that precaution?” Kara replies, still not turning her gaze from Lillian.

Suddenly, it strikes Maggie that there’s something wrong here. Kara’s voice isn’t playful, or even defensive. It’s just high and cold. Measured.

“Kara, what the hell?” Alex asks, moving towards her faster, clearly not having missed it either.

“Alex.” Maggie murmurs, taken aback by some premonition, “Alex, no-”

Just as Alex is looking back at her, confused, Kara’s hand shoots out and throws Lucy back against the wall.

Immediately, Maggie has her gun out, pointed in Lillian’s direction. There’s a blur of movement, and the gun is not in her hand anymore.

“Too slow.” Lillian says, as Kara shakes out the magazine, bullets dropping to the floor in a short stream.

“Ok, that’s just wasteful.” Maggie murmurs.

“What have you done to her?” Alex, who had not followed her action suit, growls.

“Your sister came to arrest me, all angry and righteous.” Lillian says, putting her cuffed hands on the table, as someone directing a meeting would. “Alone. I don’t know why she thought that was a good idea. Maxwell was only ever a distraction. Do you think I’d trust him alone with the secrets of Myriad?”

“Whatever you did to her,” Alex says, “I can fix it.”

“Not when you can’t even find the source of the signal.” Lillian counters. “I’m not making so obvious a mistake.”

Even as she speaks, Kara steps between her and Alex, so that the two Danvers sisters are facing off. Maggie sees the moment when it really hits Alex that’s she’s back in this situation, when her face collapses in an all-too-familiar way.

“Kara-” she says brokenly. “No, Kara, not again-”

There is a sudden blur into the room then, and the only other Kryptonian in the employ of the DEO appears.

“Kara?” Astra speaks, looking at the face of her niece, taken over by the program that she had once created.

“You!” Lucy says, picking herself up and rounding on the Kryptonian, as Lillian Luthor’s eyes widen in alarm. “ _You_ can stop her.”

Astra’s eyes are suspiciously bright, as she assesses the situation, and her reply is breathy.

“No.” she says, “I’m not fighting my niece. Never again.”

She disappears as abruptly as she had appeared. Maggie, still focused on Lillian Luthor, can see the smile that tilts up her face, at the same time that Lucy exhales a frustrated breath.

“Who’s left to help you now?” Lillian asks.

Her dire words are punctuated by Kara stepping forward. The blank look in her eyes have been filmed over by a glassy sheen. The glow turns yellowish red as Maggie stares, never a good sign.

“Kara.” Alex starts. “Please, don’t do this.”

“She can’t hear you.” Lillian intones.

For many moments, there’s just silence, as Kara advances and the other occupants of the room hold their position, unwilling to cede ground, but also unwilling to prod the Kryptonian into action.

“Mother.” a new voice says, into the silence, and Lena Luthor looks desperate as she enters the room, coming closer, putting herself dangerously close to the line of Kara’s fire. “Mom, what are you doing to her?”

“Lena.” Lillian says calmly, turning to her daughter. “You shouldn’t be here. This place is dangerous.”

“Like you care?” Lena shoots back. “After all the attacks on my life? These are the people who kept me safe from _yours_ . Supergirl... oh god, Kara, isn’t it? _She_ kept me safe.”

“I was trying to warn you away, not to kill you.”

“We both know that’s a lie, and you’ve lost it.” Lena says, shaking her head. “You really have.”

“I’m trying to protect you.” Lillian replies. “This will secure your future.”

“From one mother to another, that’s the worst reason I’ve ever heard for doing something like this.”

When Maggie looks for the new voice that has spoken, Astra has reappeared, and she’s holding in her arms a woman whom Maggie remembers seeing once before. The new arrival has to be supported by the Kryptonian just to walk, and her whole body is shaking, but her eyes are sharp in her lucid face.

“Mom.” Alex says, lowly.

“Alex.” Eliza Danvers’ smile is small, and tinged with sadness. “Honey, you’ve done so well. I’m so proud of you, Alex.”

“Mom.” Alex repeats, sounding broken. “Oh god, mom. It’s Kara, she’s-”

Eliza looks at Kara, whose advance had stalled at her arrival.

“Oh, sweetie.” she says, “What have they done to you?”

Kara’s stalling ends, and her inexorable advance is back, the eyes glowing red now.

“Kara, please.” Alex looks broken at the thought of losing her sister again. “This isn’t you.”

“She can’t hear you.” Lillian repeats. “I think you had better get out of her way, agent.”

“You know how this ended up last time, Kara.” Alex pleads, and Maggie knows with a certainty that her fear isn’t for her what sister could physically do to her. “Please, I can’t go through this again.”

“Kara.” Eliza’s voice is calm, as she joins in. “Come back to us, sweetie.”

There is just a moment of suspended motion, for what seems like eternity, a moment where Kara stops, and the other women in the room stand frozen, unable to determine the best course of action. Then, the red light in Kara’s light slowly fades, and her clenched fists slacken. Only one word is uttered from her mouth.

“Alex?”

“Yes.” Alex says elatedly, moving forward to embrace her sister, arms outstretched. “Yes, Kara, it’s me.”

“Alex!” Kara says again, like a woman breaking out of a dream.

It is Lillian that Maggie is watching, though, and she sees the exact moment she realizes that her gamble is lost. Her hands twitch on the table, the cuffs easily coming undone, but Maggie is behind her, yanking her arms back in a bastardization of the arrest hold.

“Had a same idea, huh?” comes a voice beside her, and there is Lucy back on her feet, with her gun reloaded and pointed directly at Lillian. “I had a feeling she might try something else.”

Maggie cuffs Lillian and reads her, hearing in the distance the Danvers sisters sniffling and uttering reassurances to each other.

“I knew you could beat it.” Alex’s voice murmurs, full of a belief that could move mountains.

“Not without your help.” Kara is replying, between sniffles. “Never without your help, Alex.”

Catching movement from the corner of her eyes, as the two rush over to embrace Eliza as one, Maggie smiles and leads Lillian Luthor out of the room, to the DEO agents and NCPD officers rushing down to meet them.

It’s later, when she’s passed Lillian off to their care, that Maggie turns and finds herself face to face with Eliza Danvers, leaning on a sheepish-looking Alex.

“So.” Alex’s mother starts, with a slightly mischievous smile on her face. “My daughter tells me that you’re Maggie Sawyer, and that I should meet you.”

\---

 

Lillian Luthor doesn’t take easily to handcuffs.

“Do you really think it’s going to be this easy?” she asks them. “My son will take care of this as soon as he learns of it.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” Cat Grant cuts in. “As long as we’re bringing politicians into this, I’m sure my friend Olivia will want a say in this, well.”

Until then, her small frame had been hidden behind the row of DEO agents securing the premises. Now, she dominates the area before Lillian Luthor, the two women sizing each other up in a way that seems familiar, as if they’ve both played this game before.

“Where did _you_ come from?” Maggie asks, at the same time as Lucy.

“Through the door.” is the dry answer, before Cat Grant expands with a sigh at their protracted stares. “Very well. I asked Astra to bring me here.”

She turns to Lillian without waiting for a reply.

“I can’t say I’m not a little sad for what you’ve turned into, Lilly, and I can’t say that I don’t miss the woman who once only wanted a safe world for her children.” Cat says, with what seems like real regret in her voice. “But, you won’t be paying your way out of this, not if I, or Senator Marsdin, or anyone in this room has anything to say about it.”

“You think a senator is going to stand up to my son?” Lillian asks.

“Oh, I wouldn’t underestimate the Wonder Woman of the senate.” Cat says, a smile playing around her mouth. “Astra, Olivia is stuck in traffic. Would you mind?”

“I am not your cab service, kitty.” the addressed Kryptonian gripes, but flies out anyways.

When she returns with Senator Olivia Marsdin, Lillian Luthor’s face loses a little of its sureness. She turns just a minute fraction in the direction of someone who had been quietly standing by through her arrest. The movement doesn’t go unnoticed by her target.

“No.” Lena Luthor says, shaking her head at the silent appeal. “You’re not getting any help from me, mom.”

“There’s that Luthor iron will.” Lillian murmurs, before facing front again. She actually looks proud, and Lena looks away, her face a spasm of emotions.

With the senator holding court, a highly politicized argument ensues. Maggie watches, not without fascination, as Lillian Luthor faces off against the joined forces of Lane, Grant and Marsdin.

“Bet you a drink she’ll get out of this somehow.” a voice says behind her, and Maggie turns to see Alex, who is regarding the proceedings with obvious skepticism.

“With her million dollars an hour lawyers?” Maggie murmurs back. “I’m not taking that bet for anything less than three drinks.”

“Two, plus a dinner date at Simone’s.” Alex amends.

“Deal.” Maggie says. “Although, you could have just told me you wanted a date.”

“But this is so much more fun.” Alex replies. “Hey, do you think we should be making bets on something like this?”

“Considering I’m the one who’s going to be pounding the pavement tracking her down if she escapes?” Maggie asks. “I’m good with it.”

“The DEO is going to have jurisdiction!” Alex protests.

Maggie shakes her head amusedly.

“Tell you what, Danvers.” she says. “We can argue about jurisdiction another day, because I can see that really gets you going. For now, though, I need to regroup with the captain, and you need to get over to your sister before she vibrates out of her skin with anxiety.”

Alex beams at Kara standing by Eliza’s side, who sticks her tongue out at them, clearly having heard what was said despite being on the other side of the room.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” she says, before walking towards her family, and Maggie echoes her words, before heading for Captain Rivera.

“This has been the longest shift I’ve been on in _years_.” the captain remarks, in an undertone, as she directs the officers leading out Lillian Luthor to the waiting NCPD van.

“I thought we were waiting until morning for the prisoner transfer.” Maggie says.  


“After everything that’s gone down tonight, I want her in National City’s highest security prison as soon as we can manage it.” the captain replies. “And even then, I wouldn’t put it past her to somehow give us the slip. Now, come on, Sawyer. You’re riding with me.”

She squeezes Maggie briefly around the shoulders before heading out to the van, but Maggie lags behind, looking back at the DEO one final time. At the far end of the room, she spies Alex watching her, sandwiched between her mother and sister. After the topsy turvy events of the night, Maggie finds herself reluctant to leave them.

Even as she hesitates, though, Alex smiles encouragingly at her, nodding her towards the door.

And so Maggie leaves, pursuing Captain Rivera’s retreating form into the cold desert night, and coming to terms with the fact that the hunt of their lives is finally over.

 

  
**-many weeks later -**

 

Even in the early hours of the morning, the sun streams in bright and warm into an unremarkable apartment out of many in National City. Maggie smiles as it hits her back, and curls down into Alex’s slack form below her. The two of them have chosen to sleep in this morning, on one of those rare days when Maggie’s afternoon shift coincides with Alex’s day off. As Maggie burrows tighter into the body below, responding in nonsensical murmurs to the sleepy kisses pressed against her, her phone buzzes in a quick succession of texts.

“Don’t you dare pick that up.” Alex groans, as she shifts her weight to roll off.

Maggie briefly brushes her lips again, and resists for all of five seconds, before leaning over to check the phone.

“It’s the captain.” she says, thumbing the messages open and reading them over. “She needs me to come in a bit early for my shift.”

“Ugh.” Alex has got sulking down to an art, in an expression that looks both adorable and vaguely menacing at once. “You’d think they would give a break to the guys who saved the city from Cadmus.”

“Says the woman who came home late from the labs just yesterday, and only after J’onn threatened to suspend your access code.” Maggie snarks, a fond smile lifting her lips at the memory.

“Mm-hmm.” Alex responds, an undertone of grumpiness still present in her reply. “The cultures will die I’m not there to tend to them.”

“It’s one day, Alex, and Kara promised to check in on them.”

“The Girl of Steel is a lot of things, Maggie, but patient biotechnician isn’t one of them.”

Maggie just shakes her head and moves to get off the bed. As she braces herself to lift off, though, lightning-fast arms shoot out and gather her into a locked embrace, while Alex’s face buries itself into her hair with another frustrated growl.

Maggie protests only weakly, before sinking back into the hold, taking full advantage of the meagre minutes she’s got remaining, before the alarm goes off for the final time. She tumbles off the bed for good then, getting washed and dressed to the accompaniment of Alex’s disgruntled mumbles. She kisses away one final protest from her girlfriend’s lips, before heading out the door, ready for whatever the day - and the captain - might throw at her.

\---

 

Captain Rivera calls Maggie to her office as soon as she makes it through the door, which she had expected. The captain doesn’t, however, immediately start with the reason for her abrupt summons, instead rehashing what has been their most-discussed topic of conversation every day for the past few weeks.

“Sinclair’s trial starts next week.” she says, as if Maggie hadn’t been preparing with the prosecution for days without end for that exact thing. “And I see from your last report that Lillian Luthor’s lawyers are still being slippery as hell.”

“I’m honestly looking forward to what new excuse for delay they’ll come up for us with next week.” Maggie comments. “That last one about her dog dying was priceless. It’s going to be hard to top poor dead Bubbles.”

The captain frowns at her, but Maggie can see hints of a smile peeking through the lip curl. It’s not like either of them had expected any different. She’s been in the job too long to hope for instant results from the bust. Closing down Cadmus is good enough for her, for now.

“We’ll get her in the end, though.” The captain says, with no little satisfaction. “Especially with her own daughter testifying against her. The attorney was almost weeping, when he put her through the paces. Tells me she’s as perfect a witness to put on the stand as he ever met.”

Maggie nods, but being able to spot stalling when she encounters it is one of the first things she had learned on the job. She knows all of this; it’s not news to them.

“Why did you call me in early?” she asks, cutting to the chase.

“To fire you.”

Maggie blinks.

“I know there were some pretty close shaves with the Cadmus takedown.” she ventures, after a moment, when the captain simply keeps looking placidly at her. “But, I don’t think I did that bad, all things considered.”

Captain Rivera smirks, breaking through her poker face at last.

“And then rehire you.” she clarifies. “The budget for the new year is here, and with all the feedback we’ve been getting over the Sinclair and Luthor arrests, the higher-ups have approved expanded funding for the division.”

“So, how I do I come into this?” Maggie asks.

“I’m starting up a new subdivison.” the captain says briefly, passing over some stapled sheets of paper to her. “Look it over.”

Maggie gives a brief skim before looking up, unable to keep her eyes from raising.

“Is this-”

“A subdivison for the specific purpose of patrolling crimes against aliens, yes.” the captain says, nodding. “I’ve been going at it with the head office, arguing that Cadmus would have been tracked down a lot earlier, if we had a centralized office taking the alien disappearances seriously from the start. I guess they finally started listening.”

“And you’re making me head?” Maggie asks, looking down at the details on the sheet again, somewhat dazed.

“Don’t get cocky.” the captain replies. “It’s probationary; you’ve got three months to prove to me that you’ve got what it takes.”

Maggie nods, unsure of how else to react. This is a turning point, she knows, in more ways than one. She had never really stayed long enough in the other cities she’d worked in, to rise to a position of such seniority. There’d never really been a reason to stay.

“I guess this is the part where I say I won’t let you down.” she comments, biting her lips and looking back down at the paper, hair falling down around her face.

“No, it’s the part where I dismiss you, so you can go and pretend that you’re not getting emotional in the privacy of your cubicle.” the captain comments, with some amusement. “Also, don’t forget your interview with Cat Grant this afternoon.”

Maggie nods, getting up to leave.

“I’d appreciate a quick answer on this, though.” the captain says, as she leaves. “If you want, I can run you through some of the details this evening, after your interview.”

Maggie pauses at the door, an amused smile furling up her lips at the thought of her plans for the evening.

“Can I stop by tomorrow instead?” she requests, “I’ve got a court appointment to keep this evening.”

Captain Rivera immediately looks concerned.

“Anything serious?” she asks. “Did Sinclair start a-?”

“No, no.” Maggie interrupts. “It’s just a routine traffic thing.”

She laughs a little to herself, at the confused expression on the captain’s face, and takes out her phone to text Alex as she leaves.

_Don’t be late this evening. Judge Rutherford is a hardass about punctuality.”_

\---

 

“I can’t believe you went to this length of trouble to make me pay for the parking tickets.” Alex says, somewhat in disbelief, as she exits the courtroom by Maggie’s side.

“I told you I’d find a way to make you cough up for those.” Maggie replies mildly, but she lets a smile escape, when Alex nudges her shoulder.

“Be less smug.” Alex says, fondly. “How was your interview with Cat Grant?”

“She tried to poke me into saying more than I had prepared for.” Maggie admits. “But, Captain Rivera had me go over all the details with her beforehand, so I managed to stick to the script.”

“I’m proud of you.” Alex murmurs, slinging an arm around her as they head for the parking lot. “I know she can be a bit much.”

“Hey, if the interview can help public perception of the trial, I can handle a little pressure in return.” Maggie says. “She’s pushy, but she’s also the reason we’re getting at least some unbiased coverage of the arrests in the press.”

“Mm-hmm.” Alex says in a noncommittal tone, handing Maggie the spare helmet, as she takes out her keys.

“Hang on.” Maggie stalls her, pointing to a TV installed in front of the courthouse, where the news is blaring from, with a video playing behind the anchor of a burning building.

“The fire will be spreading to the warehouse district soon, if it’s not put out fast.” the anchor is saying, and there’s a curious light in her eyes as she speaks. “The firemen are rushing over there, but the question remains... will she answer the call?”

“What do you think?” Maggie asks, turning to Alex and nodding her head westwards, where fumes are clearly rising into the sky.

In response, Alex simply points up at the sky with a cocky smirk. As if on cue, there’s a blue and red whir above them, headed in the direction of the fumes.

“She’s got this.” Maggie says.

“Yep, she has.” Alex replies.

National City has a superhero again, and even if it might take a while for her to re-earn the city's trust, no fire is going to be left burning, nor any kitten stuck up a tree, on her watch.

They watch the fumes for a while longer before Alex starts the bike. Maggie climbs on the back seat, looping her arms around that area of Alex’s waist where it feels like they were designed to rest. Alex doesn’t pull into the side road to take the shortcut to Maggie’s - to _their_ \- apartment, though. As she turns left into the main road instead, Maggie nudges her shoulder in question.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” is the mysterious answer she receives. “I’ve got something to take care of.”

Alex doesn’t say anything further until she pulls into a familiar place, to the same conservatory that Maggie had taken her to, on their first date. When Maggie gets up to follow her in, she finds her advance stayed by a hand splayed against her stomach.

“No, you have to stay here.” Alex insists, a small and secretive smile peeking its way through her face.

“You know that’s just making me more determined to follow you in.” Maggie snarks, but stays put, as Alex heads into the conservatory.

It’s some time before her girlfriend returns, a self-satisfied look on her face, and a carefree tilt to her lips that Maggie is seeing there more and more often with every passing day.

“What was that about?” Maggie murmurs, while Alex starts up the Ducati.

She can feel the replying chuckle reverberate against her face, as she presses into Alex’s back.

“You’ll find out soon.”

\---

 

“Soon” turns out to be quite a few weeks later, when Maggie finally finds out the reason behind Alex’s unusual detour.

She’s getting used to sleeping in on non-work days, bolstered by the incentive of extra snuggling time with Alex. That morning, though, she wakes up earlier than she would otherwise have needed to, to be greeted with the sound of Alex already up and speaking on the phone from the living room.

Maggie takes her time getting washed and dressed. By the time she exits the bedroom in one of her usual button-downs, Alex is still on the phone.

“Calm down, Kara.” she is saying, in a tone of fond exasperation. “If you’re getting this keyed up just over a get together with friends to announce your engagement, how are you going to be about the actual party?”

“She’s just excited.” Maggie murmurs, as she passes Alex on her way to the coffee machine.

She fixes herself the usual, and half-listens to Alex’s side of the conversation, as she puts the TV on mute and cycles through the news channels. The usual tide and ebb of National City news greets her, interspersed with what she had really been looking for: whatever new tidbit the press had managed to get about the ongoing trials.

“Stop worrying.” Alex is saying now, in between sips of the coffee that Maggie had passed her. “Seeing as Cat Grant herself is taking care of the party details, I doubt something is going to go wrong. She’s probably even fixed the weather up.”

By the time Alex ends the call, Maggie has already turned off the TV in disgust, in the middle of yet another interview with Lillian Luthor’s lawyers that some host or other had seen fit to air.

“Anything good?” Alex asks, nearing her side.

“Nothing that’ll help you keep that coffee down.” Maggie replies. “We should probably get going, if we don’t want to be late.”

“Right.” Alex says, heading for the bedroom, before hesitating halfway there. “Hey, are you sure M’gann is okay with Kara holding this get-together at the bar?”

“I think she offered.” Maggie says, with a shrug. “Wednesday mornings aren’t all that busy at the bar. How come you’re not dressed yet?”

Alex looks away from her, towards the front of the apartment.

“I was waiting for something.” she says, chewing the inside of her lip. “Take a look at what’s in the hallway.”

As she disappears into the bedroom, Maggie makes her way to the front as directed, only to see a tiny plant there, near the door, next to a fat instruction book titled _The Complete Book of Cascade Bonsai._

She is leafing through the pages, while casting wondering glances at the tiny juniper, when Alex steps out of the bedroom, dressed in her go-to sweater and slacks.

“I know you said you didn’t have the time for it.” Alex says, and a spasm of uncertainty seems to pass over her face, before it’s back to its usual confident set. “But, now there’s two of us, and I’ve been looking this up, and I really feel like we can manage it. Together, I mean.”

Maggie looks up at her, not knowing what to say.

“Is it ok?” Alex prompts.

“It’s more than okay, Danvers.” Maggie says, finally finding her words.

She rushes up to hug Alex, feeling the half-relieved exhale of her girlfriend fluttering up her hair. Because, it’s about more than the plant, of course. This is Alex’s way of saying she’s in for the long haul.

“We have to name her.” Maggie says, when she pulls back. “For good luck.”

Alex looks smug.

“I thought of something.” she says. “And, since you rejected all the pet names I proposed-”

“For the last time,” Maggie starts, “We are not naming our future dog Mendeleev, Alex. He already has a periodic table as his legacy. And hey, I said I was okay with Marie or Gertrude.”

Short for Marie Curie and Gertrude Belle Elion respectively, of course, but she’ll take the compromise.

“Still.” Alex insists.

“Alright.” Maggie says.  “What’d you have in mind?”

There’s a pause and then-

“Patricia.” Alex says, beaming.

“Fine.” Maggie says with a fond sigh. “Patty it is. I’ll google which scientist you’ve named her after, later. Now, _come on,_ or we’ll be late.”

\---

 

When they walk into M’gann’s bar, everyone else due to arrive is already there, cloistered around the only table that is fully occupied. As they make their way towards Kara’s eagerly beckoning hand, Maggie spots Ren behind the counter, serving a patron with a now-practiced speed.

“He’s really taken to it here, huh?” she murmurs to Alex, as the latter raises a hand to return the mock salute that the boy had thrown at her.

“Yeah.” Alex says, curling a casual hand around her back to steer her towards the table. “The other boys took up my offer to train as DEO recruits, but he really liked it here, and M’gann was open to having him, so.”

“Good.” Maggie says. “Although, I have to say, I’m totally going to try and steal some of your recruits away for my subdivision. I’ve got my eye on Shen, especially. He’s got a sharp mind.”

“Again, keep your claws out of my jurisdiction, Sawyer.” Alex murmurs, in a mock-affronted voice, as they reach Kara’s table. “I thought you had enough trouble keeping that Infernian you hired in line.”

As they cycle through the usual greetings, and survive one of Kara’s hugs, M’gann walks by their table, nodding at Maggie in greeting and sliding a drink over to Kara.

“Club soda on the house, for the girl of the hour.” she says, with a brief smile, before moving on to check on another patron.

Kara smiles shyly as James - who’s having the same - knocks glasses with her.

“I must admit you picked well, Kara.” Cat Grant says, her quiet voice carrying over the chatter. “James might argue with me about editorial decisions far too often, but he’s much better than that boy who wouldn’t leave you alone when you used to come by here, before. The one that Astra had to throw out... what was his name... Michael?”

“You are wrong, kitty.” Astra says, walking by at the mention of her name. She hadn’t chosen to join the party, instead playing darts a few tables away from them, with a couple of aliens whose species Maggie doesn’t recognize. “I believe his name was Marcel.”

She gives the embarrassed Kara a brief pat on the shoulder, before walking back to her companions, just as M’gann wanders in their direction again.

“I’m pretty sure you’re both wrong, and it was Manuel.” the Martian chimes in with a wink, as she deposits their newly ordered drinks on the table. “I think you’d remember, Cat, seeing as it was you who ordered Astra to throw him out in the first place.”

“Stop it, all of you.” Kara says, red-faced. “There was nothing between me and that guy!”

“Well, I’m glad she chose to stick with me.” James says, looking simply amused, as he raises his glass.

Maggie raises her own in mock toast to his words, along with the rest of the table. As the conversation moves on, though, she finds herself sitting back and spectating for the most part. One-on-one conversation is more her style, so she lets the parry of words flow around her, other than answering the odd murmur from Alex, or getting into an occasional verbal mano-a-mano with James on some issue or other.

In such a position, it’s hard for her to miss it when J’onn slides out of the booth and heads towards the bar, under pretense of ordering another drink, at a time when M’gann happens to be manning the counter. Maggie feels her body tense, and she feels oddly protective as he nears her friend. As she observes, however, J’onn only offers a brief smile to M’gann, one that looks almost shy, before initiating a conversation with her. Maggie continues to observe them for a few more minutes, before she assures herself that the conversation is an affable one, and tunes back in to the argument going on around the table about the new Star Wars movie.

As the argument turns towards the subject of the Porgs, though, and the glasses start looking noticeably drained, she offers to run the next trip to counter, and takes advantage of the moment to catch a real chat with M’gann.

“Seems like J’onn is warming up to you.”

“He was just thanking me for what happened at the DEO.” M’gann says. “And for my help in tracking Lillian Luthor’s myriad signal down.”

“That’s a start, right?” Maggie ventures, searching her friend’s face for a cue.

“And he also asked me if I’d like to permanently work for the DEO as a consultant.” M’gann admits.

“Will you accept?”

There’s only a moment’s hesitation, before M’gann shakes her head.

“Mars needs help.” she says simply. “If there’s one thing the events of the past few months have shown me, it’s that I can’t just keep my head in the sand anymore. I’ve got to go back there, and do my best to help fix things.”

Maggie nods, and looks away, trying not to let her face show the sudden sense of loss she’s feeling inside.

“That’s a while away, though.” M’gann continues, patting her arms, like she’s figured it out anyway. “I have to make sure the bar is in good enough shape before that, to pass it on to Darla to run.”

“Right.” Maggie says, still troubled. “But M’gann, will it be safe?”

“Not at all.” is the blunt answer she gets. “I’ve still go to do this, though. And Astra’s agreed to come with me, once she helps Kara fully finalize the integration of her organization into the DEO, so that’ll be something. I could use her Kryptonian strength on Mars, and I think it’ll be good for her, too.”

The kinship that Maggie had always felt with M’gann has only strengthened over the unusual events of the past few months. Even so, she’s surprised by how upset she feels, as this abrupt realization that their friendship is to be severed.

“Hey, I’ll come back to visit whenever I can.” M’gann assures her. “And Astra will want to come back to her niece, too. Your lot will be sick of seeing us, we’ll be over so often.”

“Right.” Maggie repeats, knowing it won’t be that simple, when the time comes.

Despite her own sadness at the impending parting, she can see that there’s a new resolve to M’gann, that hadn’t previously shown through the Martian’s reserve. She looks happier, more open, despite the dangers she would surely face as a result of this decision. More at peace. That makes it easier for Maggie to reconsider her own feelings about it.

“Just... fly by once in a while.” she says. “Darla is great, but she can’t mix up a peach mojito like yours.”

M’gann tips a mock hat to her.

“M’gann M’orzz, interplanetary bartender, at your service.”

Maggie smiles at her antics, before picking up the drinks and heading back to the table. She deposits them while the Star Wars discussion continues to rage, but declines to join in when Winn tries to drag her over to his side of the argument.

“I’m actually going to head up for some air.” she murmurs, picking up her phone and heading up the stairs leading to the roof.

Outside, it’s bright as usual, in that unrelenting way that sometimes makes Maggie miss living in a place where seasons are an actual thing. Still, there’s an unusually chilly breeze that reminds her of Nebraska, too, so she types out a quick text to her aunt, whom she’s due to pick up at the airport later that evening.

_Looks like you brought the cold with you._

Just as she’s sending the text, she can hear footsteps making their way up. Maggie turns leisurely, to see Alex approaching with a somewhat apologetic look.

“I know they can be a bit much.” Alex says, taking a position next to Maggie by the parapet. “Winn and Kara going at it can exhaust me too, sometimes.”

“It’s fine.” Maggie says. “I mean, James is always good for an entertaining argument, and it was nice to talk to M’gann again. I haven’t had time to see her as much recently, what with chasing down all the Cadmus loose ends.”

“Right.” Alex says, her eyes dimming at the mention of Cadmus, so much so that Maggie reaches out and pokes her on the shoulder with one finger, trying to snap her out of the shadow that had already consumed two years of her life.

“Traffic is going to be heavy, so we’ll have to leave soon if we want to pick up my aunt on time.” she says. “Are they really ok with us leaving early?”

“Kara and James are fine with it.” Alex says, shrugging. “And I don’t think mom minds.”

“Yeah?” Maggie asks.

She’s still a little nervous when it comes to Eliza Danvers, despite having no particular reason to be that way. It just seems... important, somehow, that she not mess up in that department.

Alex replying snort is half-amused, half-apologetic.

“Honestly, from some questions she was asking me last night, I think she’s already planning to invite your aunt over to Midvale.” she confesses.

“But, she hasn’t even been released from the hospital yet!” Maggie protests.

“You think that’s going stop my mother?” Alex asks.

“Now I know where you get it.”

Alex grows solemn at that, her eyes losing their contented light again.

“Ok, really, what is it?” Maggie asks, concerned.

Alex grows very interested in examining her fingernails right then.

“Our intelligence team has been working their way through the Cadmus records.” she says, words filtered through the curtain of her short hair, as she looks down to inspect her hands. “I told them to keep an eye out for mentions of a certain name, and well, they found it.”

Maggie feels like she can guess where this is leading, but stays silent.

“It’s my dad.” Alex admits. “They found records of a Jeremiah Danvers. Not imprisoned by Cadmus, but working for them.”

“Oh.” Maggie doesn’t quite know how to respond to that revelation, Alex’s recountings of her father not tallying up with her own experience with Cadmus operatives so far.

“They must have forced him to do it.” Alex says, frowning. “He’d never have gone along with them willingly.”

“What happened to him, though?” Maggie asks.

“The records just... stopped, after a while.” Alex says, shaking her head. “We can’t tell if he died, or just disappeared, or-”

Maggie nods, understanding now why she looks so disheartened.

“I have to try to track him down.” Alex says. “Even if there’s the slightest chance.”

“Does Kara know? Or your mother?”

“I haven’t told them yet.” Alex replies, biting her lip. “I don’t want to get their hopes up, not until J’onn and I find something more conclusive that we can follow up on.”

Maggie considers her words, but can’t really come up anything encouraging to say that doesn’t sound false. The reality of the world they operate in precludes the existence of such easy hope.

“Well, the NCPD is still part of this investigation.” she says eventually, “Wherever this search leads you, you know I’m down for the ride, right?”

There’s a brief exhale before Alex nods, lips pressed tight.

“I know.” she says. “Or, well, I hoped.”

“But not just me, you know.” Maggie insists. “I also mean, Kara, when you tell her, and Lucy and Winn, and I know for a fact that James and Cat would be more than willing to hit their contacts up if, you need it. You got that, right?”

“Yeah.” Alex breathes out, after a moment of stubborn silence. “Yeah, I’m just... I’m still relearning that part. Or just learning it, maybe.”

“I know.” Maggie says. “Believe me, I’m not really used to it yet, either. The first time Winn went in for a hug, I almost twisted his arm behind his back.”

They laugh at that, and Maggie loops an arm loosely around Alex’s waist, just standing side by side with her sharing warmth, trying to offer the comfort that her words cannot.

“Ok, let’s go pick up your aunt.” Alex murmurs eventually, breaking the spell and leading Maggie down the stairs by the hand.

\---

 

Maggie drums bored fingers against the steering wheel of the car that J’onn had lent them to pick her aunt up in. In the heavy afternoon traffic, they’re _crawling_ down the highway, the breakneck speed set off by the music of Maggie’s playlist and punctuated by Alex’s occasional grumble at not being the one driving.

“Good thing we put in an hour’s worth of slack.” she remarks, stretching to see how far ahead the line of cars before them winds. “There’s no way we’ll get there in time, otherwise, and my aunt can’t be trusted alone in an airport as large as the NCX.”

When there’s a suspicious lack of a reply from Alex, she glances sideways, and sees a hand sneaking up to swipe at her phone.

“Oh no, don’t do it.” Maggie warns.

Unheeding, the fingers swipe down her playlist, clearly searching.

“I mean it.” Maggie insists. “If you change the song again-”

The radio hit that had been playing is switched to one of the songs that Alex had sneaked into her playlist, yet another of those 80s rock hits that she favors. Maggie reaches out and stubbornly changes it back, mostly for the principle of the thing, and a playful scuffle ensues.

“I’m driving.” she insists. “I get to pick.”

“You’re only driving because my arm is in a sling.” is the ready retort, as Alex swipes it right back to her choice.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

They come to an agreement when Alex finally finds “One Week” on the playlist. They had found out a few weeks ago that Barenaked Ladies is one of the few bands that the two of them have in common.

“I can’t believe I feel for someone with Top 40 tastes in music.” Alex mock-grumbles, settling back into her seat.

“And _I_ can’t believe I fell for someone who thought Dmitri Mendeleev was a good name for a dog.” Maggie shoots back, but she can feel herself smiling wide, the expression coming to her more naturally these days, especially when she’s around Alex.

There’s a odd sound from Alex, quickly stifled. The traffic ahead of them is still barely inching ahead, so Maggie risks another look to her side, to see her smiling.

“You did fall for me.” Alex says, in an unusually giddy tone, as if this is some brand new revelation. “Ha ha.”

Maggie shakes her head fondly, and turns back to the steering wheel.

“So this is like, J’onn’s alien car?” she asks, checking on the line before them again. “Wish it could just fly over the traffic. Like in Harry Potter.”

“Nerd.” is Alex’s rejoinder.

“Everyone has read those books, Alex.”

“Still.” Alex replies, amusement teasing its way through her tone.

They continue crawling down the highway to the entire _Stunt_ tracklist, with Maggie tuning out to the music and Alex looking out the window and humming. Maybe tomorrow she would be raring for the next big case to tackle, Maggie thinks, but she can deal with this restfulness today. The break feels good, after months of hectic rush.

Just as she’s looking over to comment to Alex about this, the phone rings over the speaker.

“It’s my aunt.” Maggie says, after a quick peek at the number travelling across the screen. “Can you pick it up?”

Her aunt’s voice blares over the speaker when Alex does so, even more exuberant than Maggie remembers.

“It’s too hot out here.” is the first thing that she says. “How do you stand it, Maggie?”

“I got used to it.” Maggie says, then reconsiders as the dry wind whisks in, the weather having risen in temperature with the passage of the afternoon. “Well, most of the time.”

There’s a sound from Alex, who had been silently listening to them, as she lets out a sneeze, quickly stifled, when she inhales some of the dust blowing in.

“Who’s that?” Her aunt asks, sounding instantly alert.

“My girlfriend.” Maggie answers, still feeling a thrill in calling Alex that. “She’s coming with me to pick you up.”

“Is she cute?” Her aunt demands.

Maggie grins when she peeks to her side again, and catches Alex’s deer-in-headlights expression.

“That’s the first thing you’re asking me?” she challenges her aunt. “Not even a ‘how are you’?”

“You didn’t answer my question.” comes the grumble over the speaker. “She better be cute!”

Maggie smiles.

“She’s beautiful.” she says, quietly.

Her aunt breaks into loud laughter over the phone, but Maggie still hears Alex’s soft gasp of surprise above it.

“What?” Alex asks, and there’s the slightest stammer in her voice.

Maggie doesn’t reply, just smiles again, looks back at the road, and keeps driving.

  
**\--- THE END ---**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all I know this update is late, SO LATE, I'M SORRY, but catch me simply shook that I managed to finish an actual multichapter fic. I honestly didn’t know I had it in me. Which is to say, thank you so much for sticking around for this journey!!!!
> 
> Y’all have been a joy to post every chapter for, and I’ve really enjoyed reading the comments, the speculation, everything XD I was honestly gobsmacked that this fic got this many readers, because I didn’t think too many folks would be interested in such a whacky plot. So, thanks for making this process a lot more enjoyable than I ever knew it would be!!!
> 
> And now *wipes forehead tiredly* now, I can finally stagger off and catch up on all the fics I’ve been meaning to read but getting behind on because I was busy writing this instead. And just in time for Sanvers Week too, hell yeah!
> 
> But seriously, thank you. And take care of yourselves.
> 
>  **ETA:** I almost forgot! Patricia the plant is totally a shoutout to tumblr.


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